Icarus & I
by bluinary
Summary: "You. Me. Mikasa. Diary. Roadtrip." After a nervous breakdown at his own graduation party, Armin has decided to avoid rehab and go on a road trip, by Eren's suggestion, to get to the roots of the question that ruined him. (cover by lolakasa)
1. The Beginning of Everything

**AN: Modern AU; eremika, aruani in later chapters. This is going to be a long ride, but I hope you enjoy. :)**

* * *

**Icarus &amp; I**

**Chapter 1**

**The Beginning Of Everything**

* * *

**The breakdown came out of nowhere.**

It happened at our graduation party, after I'd unwrapped all of my gifts and said hello to everyone personally. I was just going around, thanking everyone for their support and trying hard not to blush when a thought occurred in the back of my mind. It was a whisper, one of those intrusive thoughts you get at any given moment in time.  
But it erupted through my head, blazing through my skull, and I was screaming and crying, and I felt Eren's steady hands on my shoulders, and the next thing I know I'm in the air and then on the bed and I hear sirens are wailing, wailing, but they're faint underneath my own wails. I know I'm thrashing, and a tiny part of me tells me that I'm scaring them, I'm ruining everything, but it's lost beneath that single thought that's shattering me, destroying me, tearing down in seconds what I've built up over years:

_What's the point?_

That's it. Three little words, and suddenly I'm bawling because I have no answer, no quip for that little voice. Suddenly, the world is pointless and love is pointless and laughter is pointless and I am pointless and time is nonexistent and it doesn't matter whether I'll ever know what creatures live in the Marianas Trench because there is no meaning and life. is. a. moot. point.

They told me to calm down.

They asked my full name and I stopped screaming and said Armin Tyler Arlert because that was something I knew.

They asked my age and my breathing slowed and I said I was seventeen because that was something I knew.

I knew that I went to Maria High and that I'd gotten a full ride scholarship from my choice college, Sina University, and that in my bedroom, half of my bags were packed.

I knew that my best friends were Eren Jaeger and Mikasa Ackerman and that they loved me and that they were worried.

I also knew that none of that mattered, and that we were born to die, and that the fact that I knew things felt important when it really wasn't.

They told me to calm down, but I don't think I ever did.

* * *

My parents are very reasonable people, and that's something I'm grateful for. Dad studied psychology, and in his exact words, what I'd had was called a "crippling moment of absolute anxiety and existential crisis and maybe some depression tossed in there for fun". Mom, who studied non-human organisms (namely, plants) simply called it "freaking out".  
After a few days of rest, apologies to guests, and "Sorry, kids, Armin's not ready for company", we sat in the dining room and looked one another in the eyes. Mom had an entire notebook page filled with things that most likely had to do with our conversation. Knowing her, she would probably skip over most things, but that fact didn't do much to help suppress my nerves. It was time for a Long Talk in the Arlert household. Those were rare, and they hardly ended well.

"Armin, sweetheart," began Mom. "We're sorry we didn't see this coming. We really should have. But you always seemed so cheerful and eager, we just- we just couldn't have predicted this. I don't think anyone could have, honestly."  
She paused and glanced at my father, who would usually add some kind of related analysis on me and my mental health at this point. But he shook his head, his expression soft, his listening eyes on. I guess he trusted Mom with this one.  
Mom looked at me, her eyes asking for feedback. She couldn't work without it, no matter how many plans she made and charts she stared at.  
"It's not your fault at all," I reassured her. "Neither of you are to blame. I honestly was just fine. I just..."- best not to tell them everything- "...panicked."  
"Panicked?" Dad repeated, sincerely confused. But he didn't say any more. Maybe it was a new method he was trying out or something.  
"Was it the crowd?" Mom asked. "The thought of leaving home for so long? Or maybe it was the idea of keeping the scholarship that set you off?"  
"No," I said. "I just...I just had that random second of anxiety, imagining my general future and how uncertain it is. I just freaked out. I'm sorry, guys."  
"Oh no," Dad said, urgently reaching across the table to place his hand on mine. "Son, this is all perfectly natural, and none of it is your fault at all. You've always been scared of failure, and when the stakes rise, you falter. College is the ultimate set-up for failure, Armin. At least to you. An anxiety attack is not only understandable, but a little healthy, too."  
If he'd had a method, it was obviously done with at this point.  
"Anyway," Mom said pointedly (she'd probably been enjoying the organization of the conversation), "you have two options. The first is that your father and I send you to a rehabilitation center to try and get this weed of negativity out by its roots."  
"What's the second?" I asked.  
"You choose your own method of relief," Dad answered for Mom.  
"If you can't choose by this Thursday, you're going to rehab," Mom continued, trying to act unfazed by him and mostly failing. Chuckling, Dad kissed her on the cheek as an apology. She stroked the back of his neck in forgiveness, and in the moment I had to think, I thought.  
I had two options.  
I could go to rehab.  
Or I could come up with some other way of escape. And I was pretty sure I could think of something by Thursday, an entire five days away.  
When Mom's dark eyes and Dad's blue ones finally focused on me, I had come up with my answer, word-for-word and with substantial back-up material.  
"I'll come up with my own method," I promised, and Dad smiled.  
"Great choice, Double-A," he said, using my old nickname. "Can't wait to hear about your next genius plan."

* * *

"So they left it up to you?" Eren was shooting little foam basketballs into the plastic hoop mounted on his closet door. He was good; if not for his getting kicked off the team, he might have gotten recruited by any number of universities.  
"Yeah," I said. "Now I just have to think of something that'll actually work. I know myself, but it's hard to try and think about this objectively."  
"Not following."  
I sighed. Eren hardly ever followed. "A good emotional treatment would require input from both a personal analysis and an objective one. I know myself, but I don't know myself objectively, as a stranger or a friend or family member. Some people can think of themselves in that way, but it's rare that I can."  
Eren was silent, probably trying to cut through words he deemed unnecessary to get to the core of my meaning. It had always been this way: Eren paraphrased, and I elaborated. He was smart and cut to the chase; I was a thorough thinker, and I carefully searched for anything else that needed to be known. We made a great team, he and I, though our ties to one another were much more than mere cooperation.  
"So..." he began, his brow furrowed, "you're saying that you need someone else's opinion because you aren't someone else?"  
"More or less," I said.  
"Oh." He snorted loudly and humorously, though I couldn't see what was so funny. "Dude," he laughed, "literally __everyone else__is everyone else."  
Now it was my turn to say "oh" and laugh. "I guess you're right."  
"So you want my opinion?"  
"Of course."  
He stopped shooting and finally looked at me. His eyes had always been interesting to me, a blue-green that wasn't the ocean or a clover but its own color entirely, simply Eren. I used to be jealous of them, and in contrast, Eren couldn't have cared less if his eyes glowed in the dark. He casually rolled and narrowed them, and it was almost funny how such a delicate and glorious color could be paired up with such dark and rough features and expressions. Now they focused on me, on my skinny frame and my short ponytail, and in any other situation I might have been self-conscious, but I wasn't because my best friend was much too fascinating for any of my focus to ponder over how I looked to him.  
"Well," he said, snapping me out of my thoughts, "I guess I can say that you've always been a little anxious, and sometimes out of nowhere you can get kind of unstable, but mostly you just look...happy. Interested. Somewhere between those two."  
_Happy and interested_, I thought to myself. I guess that's how I _felt _most of the time. "Anything else?"  
"Yeah," said Eren. "Two things, actually."  
"Oh?"  
He hummed a _yes_ and turned back to his little game, gathering the balls from his floor to shoot them again. "First item: I think I know what you should do."  
"You do?" Eren wasn't usually the guy with ideas. And when he did have ideas, they were usually terrible ones. Yet something told me I'd like what he had to say.  
"Uh-huh," he answered, making yet another ball into the hoop. "You know that piece of junk van my dad has in the garage that he hasn't touched since the nineties?"  
"Yes?"  
"You. Me. Mikasa. Diary. Roadtrip."  
"Diary?"  
"Psychological healing is no walk in the park, my friend. If you actually want this to work, you need more than some scratchy blankets and a portable DVD player."  
I rolled my eyes. "Since when are you an expert in psychology, Eren?"  
He gave a short laugh. "Since I was little and my dad would punish me by making me read his college textbooks, Armin. I learned those books cover to cover. Now I finally have a chance to put all of this useless knowledge to use. Don't ruin it for me.  
"Anyway, so yeah. Diaries are very good for you, and they can help you discover yourself and all of that. That's what you plan to do, right?"  
He had a point. "Yes, it is."  
"So you see my argument."  
"Yes."  
"And you agree with me?"  
"Eren, I will only not agree with you when you're being stupid. Right now, you're about as far from stupid as I've seen you."  
"So I'm, like, average."  
We laughed, and then we started talking again, this time about the trip and the plans. When I had to go, I stopped before leaving and asked, "What was the second thing?"  
Eren had moved on from basketballs. He was playing video games now, focused on his TV. Yet he found a way to look at me again and grin.  
"Don't stare at me like you did earlier," he said. "It creeps me out."

* * *

Dr. Jaeger was just fine with our using his van and splitting the cost of the road trip with my parents, so long as it really was a method of helping me out, and not another one of Eren's poorly planned scams against him. We assured him it was, and he trusts me more than Eren, so he didn't even bother calling my parents for their permission.  
When Mikasa was finally able to come over, she had her arms loaded with a small gift basket. Her father must have thought of it, but even through her plain, calm expression I could see that she was ready to claim the idea as her own.  
"Armin," she said, hurriedly coming through my door without knocking. Before I knew it, the basket was on the floor and her arms were around me.  
"Hey, Mikasa."  
"You're okay?"  
"Sort of."  
She pulled back, searching my face for what was wrong before I could even tell her. She was a beautiful girl, irrefutably so. Her hair was shoulder-length and completely black, and her eyes were gunmetal blue and stormy. She constantly wore her hair in her face, obstructing her lovely features, and, like Eren, you could see she didn't think much of them. A lot of guys had crushed on her the year before. Some had even thought we were dating, but the truth is that she treats both Eren and me this way. The only difference is that Eren is stubborn and hates it when she coddles him. I accept it, partly for her sake and partly because I know I probably need it. I was lucky to have her always fussing over me, and I won't deny that I take pride in her beauty, the way you take pride in your mother's looks. She was, in many ways, like an older sister to me, or a second mom.  
She continued to brush my bangs away from my forehead, searching there for some clues. When she found nothing, she finally gave up.  
"What's wrong?" she asked.  
"Two things," I said. "The first thing is that at any given moment, I'll probably freak out again. The second is that Eren's taking us on a road trip so I don't have to go to rehab."  
"Road trip?" she repeated, ignoring the first thing. "Where are we going?"  
"Don't know, don't care," I answered, glad she was ignoring it and wondering why I'd said anything in the first place.  
She considered this. "Which car?"  
"Dr. Jaeger's old van."  
"Who's paying?"  
"Both his parents and mine agreed to split the pay."  
"When?"  
"Probably this upcoming Saturday."  
"How does he think this will help?"  
I reached over to my desk and showed her my composition book.  
"I have a diary."  
She looked away, thinking again.  
"I can go," she finally said after a few minutes. She looked up at me, her eyes always direct and full of purpose. "As long as it's to help you."  
That last part was a little unsettling. I wanted Mikasa to do it because it sounded fun, or because she needed a change of scenery. Not for me. But I knew if I brought this up, she'd only be confused and annoyed with the thought.  
"Thanks," I said. She nodded to say I was welcome, and we then proceeded to discuss other things, the whole time a tiny voice in the back of my mind repeating that there was no reason for this, for any of it. Like anyone else would, I ignored it.

* * *

__Day 0__

__Hi. I'm Armin, and five days ago I broke down crying because I made a very important realization: nothing matters.___  
___Now I feel okay, but I know it's going to come again. Fear doesn't just appear once. It follows you and waits for its moment, when you're alone and quiet, when your thoughts are all that's real.___  
___Mikasa, Eren, and I are going somewhere in Dr. Jaeger's old van. We don't know where, but we're going.___  
___I can't wait until I'm scared again. Pointlessness is terrifying, but I'd rather be scared and aware than happy and ignorant. I also hate this waiting. It's like the fear of fear itself.___  
___I guess I don't feel so okay, after all.___  
___More later.__

* * *

It was dark when we left, and cool for a summer morning. It smelled like the ocean outside, and my hair was frizzing up. It felt like a huge storm was coming along, and I liked that feeling.  
Eren had dressed in his usual clothes: old jeans just a little too big for him and a T-shirt advertising a favorite band of his. Mikasa wasn't dressed very differently, either, clad in the comfortable hoodie and leggings she liked to study in.  
I'd dressed a little more casually than usual, and I was probably the most packed. A nervous sort of energy buzzed inside of me, even though it was just a road trip. My parents had taken me many places as a kid- Europe, Africa, Australia, etc. I shouldn't have been as excited as I was.  
Then again, they'd only ever taken me across the country once, for some conference with their study buddies. They found the US unremarkable. I, on the other hand, had made a list of things I wanted to see and do, all of them so close but so far from home. I admittedly hadn't thought much of recovery, if only because I feared another breakdown. Hopefully, neither Eren nor Mikasa would pester me about it.  
I'd said good-bye to my mother, who always woke early, that morning. Dr. Jaeger was there to see us off, as Eren's mom was working early at the hospital. He was paying special attention to me, much to Eren's embarrassment, giving me tips on meditation and journal-keeping. Most of all, he said, he wanted me to treat this like a vacation. Eren finally shooed him away, and we all hopped in. Eren was driving first, much to our terror, but it _was_ his family van, so we figured he had a right to the wheel.  
"First stop?" Mikasa asked, looking at me. I took out my notebook, grinning widely. I didn't even know where to start.  
"McDonald's," Eren answered for me. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm freaking starving."  
I wrinkled my nose at the thought of getting breakfast there- though their coffee wasn't bad- but said nothing in protest. Mikasa simply rolled her eyes and asked Eren to drive by the nearest convenience store on the way.  
As we rolled down the road, the Jaegers' house became smaller and smaller. Finally, we turned a corner, and there was nothing left of the starting line to see.  
Eren shoved in one of his burned CDs, and alternative music began to play. While he and Mikasa bickered in the front, I stared out at the thick, gray sky, silently enjoying the music with that same thrill stretching from my chest to my face and down into my fingertips.  
I knew I should have been worrying, thinking about my mental state, but something told me that that wasn't what I was here for.  
Something told me that this was going to be the journey of my life.

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****A/N: Thanks for reading! I should come up with chapter 2 soon. Please review.****


	2. Introducing Armin (Whoever That Is)

****Icarus &amp; I****

****Chapter 2****

****Introducing Armin (Whoever That Is)****

* * *

****By the end of our second day,****** the novelty of the trip had worn off.**

The van was littered with chip bags and empty water bottles, and Eren seemed to become worse and worse at driving as the time passed. I couldn't count how many times I'd gripped my seatbelt and yelped, or how many times he'd flipped the finger at the "jerks" that had apparently done him some injustice. It had gotten to the point where, whenever Eren spat out an obscenity or lifted that one particular finger, Mikasa would grab his ear and yank him towards her as punishment. Unfortunately, all this did was make us swerve. I was beginning to wonder if this road trip was honestly going to help my anxiety, or whether it would just make it worse (if Eren didn't swerve us into an accident and kill us first).

To top it all off, we'd unanimously decided to sleep in the van the night before, and we all __stank__. Or, in Eren's words,

"This car smells like sex, and it's driving me nuts. Is there a place we can shower?"

"How do you know what sex smells like?" I asked dryly.

He rolled his eyes. "Honestly, I don't. But I'd imagine it smells like this."

"Like what?" Mikasa challenged, the smallest of smirks resting on her lips.

Eren sniffed, and his face wrinkled in disgust. "Old fish and puberty. And maybe my parents' room sometimes."

Mikasa and I gave expressions of revulsion, silently asking if that last sentence was truly necessary. Eren ignored us, half-grinning at his accidental revenge.

"Anyway, back to the subject. Who's up for our first hotel?"

Deciding to furthermore ignore the cause of our grief, we both gave a fervent "me" in reply. It was only five o' clock, but then again, it wasn't like we had somewhere specific to be at a certain time. And besides that, we needed some real food. We'd grabbed so much fast food that I felt like I was going to throw up, and all it would have taken was the sight of another greasy french fry. Eren had no problem with our diet so far, but that was because Eren could eat silverware if he wanted to and not have a problem with it. And all Mikasa requested was that we stop at convenience stores so she could buy protein bars and shakes. Either way, I was looking forward to the hotel's food.

We were already out of Colorado and going into Arizona, where we'd find the Grand Canyon and other tourist attractions. Eren had cheerfully agreed to our first destination, probably because he really wanted to see an actual, potentially dangerous thing.

I'd been snapping photos of the scenery and writing things in my journal, but the things that I wrote were mostly things I already knew.

* * *

__Day 1__

__I feel just fine. Mentally, at least. Physically, I'm not doing so well. Eren has a couple of bad habits on the road that I've never had to experience long-term, and Mikasa's mood is generally getting worse as the minutes pass. Fast food is hell. Also, I don't think I've heard the F-word as many times in a day as I have today.__

__We're sleeping in the van tonight, pulled over in the middle of nowhere. Eren says that if a cop asks what we're doing, our excuse will be that we were all too tired to drive, and I have to give him my most pathetic face from the back seat. Out here, though, I don't think anyone's going to come around.__

__So I guess I'm supposed to talk about my issues?__

__I really do feel okay most of the time. I don't know if my breakdown was, for lack of a better word, a fluke, or if I have some pent-up energy behind false happiness. I asked Eren for his opinion two days ago, and he noted that I've always been a little anxious about a lot of things. However, he also said that I seem fine most of the time, too.__

__I asked Mikasa today for her opinion. All she said was that she was glad I was finally doing something about my mental state. I guess she thinks I'm unstable.__

__Personally, I feel like it's possible that the breakdown wasn't really a fluke. Sure, that one thought was the trigger, but how much anxiety must I have had inside of me for something as ignorable and (really) childish as a long-debated question that even twelve-year-olds ask themselves to tear me down?__

__As an added point, Eren's right about me being anxious all the time. It's never been this serious, but I can recall several occasions where I've admittedly overreacted to a minor fault in a project or assignment. I'm no perfectionist, but- if this makes sense- sometimes I feel like all mistakes I make are a result of exactly how inadequate I am. It's an irrational concept, and usually, I'm able to look back and wonder how I ever believed it. But sometimes, I just stare at my failures, big and small, and I forget that being human means making mistakes. I pin everything down on myself personally, as if the fault is in my own personality and soul and not my innate nature, and it crushes me for a second.__

__For example.__

__In middle school, I had to make a model volcano. The project was so cliché, I couldn't even believe it was real. My teacher had a vast love for all clichés (and their debatable irony), however, so it wasn't that incredible, after all.__

__Anyway, so I almost paired up with Eren, but then I didn't, because he's an absolute pyromaniac when he gets the chance to be. I recall that in my sophomore year I forgot this fact, and innocently teamed up with him for our chemistry lab, which involved many flammable/explosive substances. It was terrifying to watch him pour everything in together like he did, grinning with all his might. When the fire alarm went off, I hadn't obeyed any procedures, running for my life and taking my bag with me. Eren was laughing and whooping, and I'm pretty certain part of my hair had been on fire before the water began to spray.__

__Surprisingly enough, that incident wasn't what got him kicked off of the basketball team.__

__Okay, sorry. I went off on a tangent. Actually, scratch that. I'm beating around the bush.__

__So.__

__I didn't pair up with Eren, for reasons elaborately explained above. I was with a classmate named Thomas. We agreed that I would do the planning for the volcano, and he would put the plan into action.__

__But when all was said and done, it didn't work out. When the teacher asked us to make the volcano erupt, Thomas pressed the button, and everything just kind of blew up. The tomato sauce we'd used as lava was suddenly all over everyone's face and hair, and broken chunks of the actual volcano had been blown across the room.__

__The mistake here, I found, was not in Thomas's building, but my planning. I'd been studying some higher-level chemistry at that point, and as I looked back at my simple blueprints, I realized that I'd mixed up a simple "make the sauce packets explode inside the volcano and overflow out" instruction to what was pretty much a "make the everything explode" one.__

__Even without a look at my plans, I knew the incident had been my fault. Embarrassingly enough, I started crying and wheezing, to the point where they thought it necessary to escort me to the nurse.__

__I had made a mistake, a considerably disastrous one. It wasn't something I could handle, so I broke down.__

__There are various memories I have that are similar, and that fact leads me to believe that Eren was right, and that the breakdown was not a "fluke".__

__Well, that's all the personal adventuring I'm willing to do right now.__

__More later.__

* * *

Eren was disappointed to find that we weren't headed straight to the Grand Canyon, complaining that it was way too early to settle in a hotel room yet (though he'd suggested it in the first place). Mikasa and I weren't having it.

"I'm putting you under my armpit if you don't make the turn now," Mikasa threatened, unashamed.

Eren's face twisted in disgust. "Ugh. Fine, whatever. But I call first shower."

"Ladies first," I said on Mikasa's behalf.

I saw his eyes roll in the rear-view mirror, but he said nothing in argument. Mikasa nodded in thanks.

* * *

As it turned out,__hotel __was a generous word for where we were staying. Not only was it a __motel__, but it was old-looking, old-smelling, and generally a faintly unpleasant place to be. On the bright side of that, it was very close to the Grand Canyon, and our room was given at a very generous price, even for a place like itself.

I did most of the talking when it came down to it, asking for our room and when dinner was and all of that. Mikasa just kind of blankly took in our surroundings, and Eren was warily watching any stranger that looked at him.

When we got to our room, as Mikasa rushed to get into the shower and Eren flipped on the TV (though I warned him that all hotel TV is weird), I tried to come up with a situation in which we were all comfortable sleeping. There was a normal bed, and then a couch that pulled out into an uncomfortable bed. I didn't want to have to make anyone sleep on the floor (who knew what crawled around at night), but the only alternative was for someone to share the bigger bed.

Once Mikasa came out, as Eren was running into the bathroom, already removing his shirt, I asked, "Who wants to sleep where?"

They both looked at the situation, glanced at one another, and answered simultaneously, "We'll share the bed."

"Wait- what?"

Eren hopped into the shower, leaving Mikasa to answer me.

"Long story short, we're comfortable with it," Mikasa said.

"But...why? How?"

Her expression flattened. "For reasons," she said, and I decided that maybe answers were overrated.

"Okay," I said dismissively, proceeding to tie my hair up and remove my sweatshirt. Now that our most immediate problem had been solved, I realized that it was so hot that I was in danger of a stroke. Even Mikasa was just wearing some basketball shorts and a tank top.

Disappointingly enough, the cool, humid weather that had manifested as we'd left failed to follow us down the road. Summer had always been my least favorite season; I was more of a spring and autumn person. Heat is just unbearable to me, especially since I usually have to wear less than usual to keep myself at a healthy temperature, therefore letting my self-consciousness distract me from pretty much anything important.

After a while of reading on the couch in my sticky shirt, Mikasa yelled at Eren to get out of the shower. He yelled something back, but neither of us understood him. Nevertheless, he was promptly out of the bathroom less than a minute later, in nothing but his cargo shorts, unintentionally lowering my self-esteem with his well-muscled body.

"Your turn, Ar," he said, glancing at me.

"Right," I replied, gathering my clothes.

The bathroom was surprisingly nice, at least in comparison to the rest of our room. The shower was roomy and clean, the towels were fluffy and white, and there were absolutely no cracks in the walls or on the floor, assuring me that no cockroaches would creep up on my back while I was bathing (unfortunately, I do know the feeling).

I undressed and untied my hair, which stuck to the nape of my neck. I turned the shower on cold, shivering at first, but soon welcoming the shocking sensation.

I'd gone last on purpose; I liked to take my time in the shower, since it was essentially my thinking space. After reaching to adjust the head, I curled up in the tub and closed my eyes.

In my journal, I'd established that my breakdown wasn't a random event. The question now was whether I'd actually gotten upset because of my little thought, or if it was a sort of "last straw" situation.

__Psychological healing is no walk in the park__, Eren had said.

I got the frustrating feeling that that statement couldn't have been more true.

* * *

The Grand Canyon wasn't nearly as grand as people made it out to be.

Part of my disappointment was born of poor presentation on the attraction's side, and part of it was born of the high expectations that many artistic photographs had stuck into my head. In the end, it was just a canyon. A big, red canyon.

Mikasa and Eren liked it, though. Eren flipped through his pamphlet furiously, looking for answers he couldn't get from me. He was completely fascinated and intrigued by it, wondering how deep it was and why the rock was red and what world records were associated by it.

Mikasa simply sat and took in the scenery, almost unmoving. She'd always generally enjoyed nature; I was sure that she liked the canyon almost as much as Eren did.

After fifteen minutes or so, I decided I'd seen enough. Eren and Mikasa weren't done yet, so I said I'd wait for them by our van. Eren made a crack about me getting mugged, and Mikasa quickly told him to shut up, shooting a semi-worried glance over her shoulder at me. I waved and headed back. She turned around.

Curiously enough, I found I had company in the parking lot. And I'm not simply implying that other people were around (why would I even bother to imply that?). No, I mean that a complete and total stranger was sprawled on the hood of our big, rusty van, staring at the sky.

He was tall but stocky, wearing a white T-shirt and old jeans rolled up to his calves. He could've been my age, and judging by the expensive-looking camera he cradled on his stomach (and despite his taste in resting places), I doubted he was homeless or anything of the like.

"Excuse me," I called, a little alarmed. The stranger sat up, almost dropping his camera.

"Oh, uh- is this your car? I'm __so __sorry, man, lemme get off right now, I just-"

"No, it's okay. Did you need something?"

He paused, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. "Actually, I kinda do. If you don't mind helping me out, that is."

I moved closer. A complete stranger was taking my originally empty offer for help. This was interesting.

"What's wrong?"

He lifted his sunglasses and squinted at me through the sun's fading glare, revealing round, friendly eyes. A nervous chuckle found its way out of him as he mulled over his request.

"Two things," he said finally. "Maybe more. First of all, I kind of lost my friend."

I stifled a laugh. "Um. Lost how?"

"Well, I kind of left him a couple of hours ago, and he hasn't caught up with me yet, and he won't answer his phone, and he's a bit of a troublemaker, so I'm worried. I know a complete stranger may not be much help, but I'd feel better if I had someone by my side, y'know? I mean, it sounds stupid, yeah, and I'm sure you've got your own things to do-"

"Actually, I don't. I'd be glad to help you out, mister..."

The guy held out his hand, covered in freckles like the rest of him. "Marco Bodt. Thank you so much." He grinned with gratitude and warmth, as though I were already a good friend of his.

"Armin," I returned, smiling back. "What was the second thing?"

"Oh." His smile dropped for a second. "This sounds ridiculous, but we need a ride home, to Texas. Are you just wandering, or do you have somewhere to be? Because we can just get a cab, but I can pay you, and my friend has this thing where cabs freak him out, so-"

"That's just fine with me," I interrupted. It was reassuring to find that I wasn't the only guy in the universe that rambled on when I felt stupid.

"Oh, really? Well, thank you so much," he said again breathlessly.

"It's nothing," I said. "Let me just ask my friends if they're okay with it." I could only see Mikasa being upset, but I figured that she'd have no legitimate reason to be. The van may have been old, but it could seat at least six people comfortably, even with luggage and carry-on items. And besides that, even with my list of sights to see, we had no destination and no real deadline to get back home.

After explaining to my sincerely confused friends why we had to get going right then and there, I introduced Marco to them. Both Eren and Mikasa seemed to like him, which was unsurprising, but pleasant nonetheless. We loaded into the van, Mikasa the driver this time.

"So where did you last see your friend?" I asked Marco.

"Um, I think I left him at that one diner not too far from here..."

"Chester's?" Eren guessed.

"Yeah, that's it," Marco agreed. Mikasa began to drive. "He went to the bathroom, and he was taking a really long time, right? So I told him I was going to go ahead, and he was like, 'okay, I'll catch up with you', and I left without worrying because he usually does catch up with me. But I haven't seen him yet, and it's been a few hours. I think his phone's dead. I'm worried he might have gotten hurt, but knowing him, he probably just got lost."

I nodded in sympathy, glancing at Eren. I'd never __lost__him, exactly, but there had been several occasions on which he hadn't showed up where he's supposed to (and Mikasa and I have had to rescue him before his parents found out). The situation was ridiculous, at best, and terrifying at worst. I got the sense that Marco's problem felt like a strange mix between the two.

"We'll probably find him," Eren said in an attempt at being reassuring. "He's probably still back at the diner. He'd have to be a real moron to leave, and even dumber to go very far."

"Crap," Marco muttered sincerely. I stifled my snort, instead having my own try at being comforting.

"So what's your camera for?" I asked, pointing to the one he was clutching like a stuffed animal. "Are you sightseeing?"

Marco's entire face lit up. "Oh, I'm actually an amateur photographer! I'm trying to build my portfolio right now, and I just thought of all the beautiful things here in Arizona, like the Petrified Forest and the Grand Canyon. I think this entire state has turned out to be gorgeous, though. Mom'll be proud of me once I get back."

"And where did you say you were from?" Eren asked.

"Texas," Marco answered. "I live near Austin, just a little north of it."

"But you don't have an accent," Eren noted with confusion.

Marco shrugged. "Where I'm from, not a lot of people do. I don't know about the rest of the state, though."

"Huh," I said, racking my mind for more distracting questions. "So you plan to be a photographer? What kind?"

Marco shrugged again. "Any kind, really, though I'd prefer a job where I get to deal with scenery or travel. My mom always wanted that kind of a job, too. She ended up teaching elementary school, though. She likes it, and she's, like, good at it, but- I don't know. She always, like, talks about how she gave up on her dream. I just hope I don't end up the same way."

"I guess we all feel that way, huh?" I mused, more to myself than anyone else. "We've all got this one dream that's just out of reach. It's so close, but so far. At least, I know that's how it is for me."

Marco gave me a rather startled look. It was the look most people gave me when I thought aloud. I was about to apologize when Mikasa asked, "Is that him?"

We all snapped to attention. We had slowed down near a guy around Marco's height, sunglasses glinting at us from where he was.

Marco jumped up and grinned with relief. "Yeah," he said, "that's Jean."

* * *

Jean had unquestioningly hopped into the car once he saw Marco, chattering on to him about where he'd been and how his phone had died like we weren't even there. He did this for a good ten minutes before he finally stopped and looked around.

"Wait- where are we?"

"My dad's piece-of-shit van," Eren answered. "Welcome."

"I was asking __him__," Jean said irritably, jerking a thumb at Marco. "So where are we?"

"His dad's piece-of-shit van," Marco repeated. Jean rolled his eyes, but Marco continued before he could come up with a reply. "These guys agreed to help me find you. On top of that, they said they'll take us home. Be grateful."

"Whatever," Jean muttered. Eren started to say something, but Mikasa elbowed him before he got a word out.

"Hey," I said, offering a hand in greeting. "I'm Armin. That's Eren and Mikasa. Glad to meet you."

"Ditto," he said, shaking my hand. "How much are we paying you to take us?"

I shrugged. "Whatever you're comfortable with."

"How's 200 sound? Would that cover anything?" Marco looked almost guilty at the cost. I didn't fault him; I got the feeling that if he really had the money to, he would pay a lot more. And besides that, the only things they were costing us were gas and time; even 200 felt generous to me.

"Sure," I said. "Thanks."

After a few minutes, Jean asked, "Where are we going now?"

"Back to our motel," Mikasa answered. Jean straightened up at the sound of her voice. It seemed to finally hit him that a girl was in his presence (though I'm not sure how he missed that fact when I gave him her name).

"Is there any room there?" Marco asked, already doing the calculations.

"Yeah, and it's real cheap. Like, 20 a night," said Eren.

"Great!" Marco said sincerely. "At this rate, we may be able to make our budget."

"Nice," agreed Jean. "My folks'll kill me if we don't."

"Yeah, no kidding. I'm sure they'll come after me once they successfully hide your body."

"Where would they hide it, though?"

"I know, right? I bet that even in death, you'd fart loud enough for the neighbors to hear."

Jean shoved Marco and laughed. "That was __one __time!"

"But it still happened."

"Oh yeah? Well how about the time when you pissed your pants during the school play?"

Marco's face flushed as he realized we were all listening. "Whatever, man," he chuckled despite his embarrassment. Jean smirked, but said nothing more.

With new company, we watched the sun start to set. My stomach began to growl.

* * *

The motel food cost us extra, but it was worth a real meal. I dug heartily into it while Marco attempted to get to know us better.

"Favorite...song?"

"Really?"

"Okay. Favorite color?"

"Ugh."

"Favorite movie."

At this, Eren nodded in approval. "Good one. Don't kill me, but Pacific Rim."

Marco made a visible effort not to groan. Jean didn't try as hard.

"Hear me out," Eren pleaded. "It wasn't anything incredible, but it was a good movie, and I liked the idea of it. I mean, can you imagine? Fighting giant monsters for a __living__. And aliens coming from the ocean. That was a cool idea, too."

"He just likes the fact that the robots had the same name as him," said Mikasa.

"That too," Eren admitted. "To be honest, I hadn't known what my last name meant until I saw that movie. Pretty cool to find out."

"Wait, your last name's Jaeger?"

"Yup."

"That's a pretty neat name."

Jean cracked a smile. "Coming from a guy named Butt, that doesn't mean much."

Marco shoved his elbow into Jean's arm, but otherwise ignored him. "Anyway, Eren, I can see where you're coming from, I guess. I really not a big action fan, so I guess I wouldn't know what's good and what isn't."

"You kidding me?" Jean interrupted again. "Pacific Rim was__way __overhyped. If you ask me-"

"-Like anyone was-"

"Shut up, Butt. If you ask me, Oblivion was where it was at."

"I thought Star Wars was your all-time favorite."

"Star Wars is everyone's all-time favorite. Oblivion, however, was a masterpiece all its own. Sure, Pacific Rim had the cool repetitive theme music and the nice worldbuilding and such, but it didn't have Morgan Freeman, did it?"

Eren's brow furrowed. "Is that your deciding factor of whether a movie is good or not? Whether Morgan Freeman is in it?"

Marco nodded in agreement. "Seriously, dude. Look at Dolphin Tale."

"Hey, Dolphin Tale was alright."

"Look at Evan Almighty," Mikasa offered.

"That movie was at least a little funny," Jean defended. "And besides, I never said Morgan Freeman was my _deciding_ factor. I just believe that he's a convincing one. Look at The Dark Knight."

"Lego Movie," I added, receiving a couple of surprised glances. My face flushed as silence ensued.

Jean chuckled first. Then Eren. Marco caught on, and then I was laughing, too. I caught the faintest of grins from Mikasa as we made the ruckus.

I wasn't sure if we were laughing at the random silence, memories of the movie, the mere mention of the movie, or all three. All I could think as I slapped my hand down on the table was that about a week or two ago, I was screaming because everything was pointless.

Because, I suppose, everything __is__pointless.

That fact, however, didn't keep me from laughing so hard my head ached. Neither did it hinder the staff from pointedly clearing our unfinished plates.

* * *

After saying our good-nights and setting up waking times and plans, we went our separate ways for the night. Jean and Marco were staying up on the third floor; Mikasa, Eren, and I had gotten a room on the second floor.

We all changed at the same time: Mikasa in the bathroom, me and Eren in the bedroom. I freed my hair from its ponytail once the room was cold enough, proceeding to brush my teeth.

I had a bad habit of watching myself. It had always bothered me that we could see anyone but ourselves, especially since we're supposed to know ourselves better than anyone else. I was always curious- what did I look like in this light? Was I really as pale as I thought I was? Do I really tense my eyebrows as much as everyone says I do? What about that scar from two months ago? Was that still there?

Most of all, I think I was constantly trying to connect the Armin I knew with the one I saw.

__Mature__, Eren had once called me. I could see it.

__Creepy__, I'd once heard a kid say. I could see that, too.

There were a couple more I saw. Intensity colored my lowered brow. Carefulness was in my light touch, even as I brushed my teeth. Thoughtfulness was the most obvious, written all over my body and branded into my eyes.

But the one I heard the most? I couldn't find it.

_Brilliant._

Not in my skinny limbs.

Not in my concerningly pale pallor.

Not in my frowning, foaming mouth- actually, nowhere in my feminine features.

And- even though I searched and searched until my gums began to bleed from too much brushing-

The dull, focused, sensitive eyes colored my least favorite shade of blue?

There was no brilliance in there, either.

As a matter of fact, all I could see was emptiness.

Who was I?

"Ar?"

I jumped as Eren appeared at my side.

"Uh, yes?" I asked, my mouth still a foamy mix of white and red.

He leaned on the counter to get a better look at my face. "What's up?"

"Nothing- nothing's up. Just….thinking."

His eyes narrowed, scanning me like Mikasa had earlier. I was never sure if, when he did this, he found the truth and covered it up, or if I was a better liar than I gave myself credit for. I knew for a fact that most of the time, Mikasa could read me like a book. She told me so.

Eren was another story.

I didn't want him to know. I didn't want anyone to know. I was lost, so confused by myself and who I was. I had always been that way. It was so easy to ignore when I was everyone else's Armin.

You know. Brilliant.

But once I took a real look at myself, I got scared. I didn't know this Armin. I didn't want to.

I think that, despite whether he knew the full truth or not, Eren at least saw the fear. It wasn't his Armin's usual fear. Whether he ran away from it or simply respected my wishes to leave it alone, I don't know, but he left it all the same. I was grateful.

"Don't think too much," was all he said. He tousled my hair before heading back to the bed, flipping on the weird hotel TV again.

Mikasa came out and, after brushing and flossing and doing everything she needed to do, she insisted on brushing my hair. It was something we'd always done as little kids, a couple of minutes taken during a sleepover to talk and joke.

"You doing okay?" she asked softly, starting at my ends.

"I'm better," I dodged. With most people, __how are you __was an easy question. They were just being polite. You were supposed to answer__fine__. With my friends, unfortunately, this wasn't the case. I'd gotten good at keeping them away from my inner issues, always dodging their questions with indirect answers.

Mikasa took my substitute. "Good," she said.

After a pause, I asked, "What do you think of them? Marco and Jean, I mean."

"I like Marco so far. Jean creeps me out."

I laughed. "Sounds about right." He'd had his eye on her constantly. If hadn't known any better, I would've said he had a crush on her.

"How about you?"

I thought before answering. "I feel as though Marco's a genuinely great guy. I like him. I like Jean, too, even if he's a bit…..gruff, if that's the word I'm looking for. He reminds me of a certain other scowling, tempestuous stubborn mule."

We both glanced at Eren, who was already showing signs of sleepiness.

"They don't seem to get along very well," Mikasa noted.

"They're just too alike," I said. "Excepting that Jean has a much bigger ego, from what I've seen."

She finished. I stood up and unpacked my blankets, unfolding the couch. Mikasa moved to the bed and crawled inside…...facing Eren?

This was new.

I acted as though I hadn't seen anything. When Mikasa turned out her lamp, however, I watched, curious.

Eren reached a sleepy hand over and combed Mikasa's hair behind her ear. She held his hand there. She said something, but I couldn't hear it over the AC. He said something back. I turned my head back to the wall.

Mikasa and Eren. Eren and Mikasa. How could I have missed that one?

What did this mean for the three of us? Would it break us up, as everyone said things like this did?

No. I knew my friends. They wouldn't abandon me for anything.

But what if it didn't work out? What if taking this step forward was a mistake, and once it was over, everything between them- a relationship they'd built up over the entirety of their lives- was soiled?

Before I could go on, I stopped myself.

Maybe there was a reason they were waiting to tell me. What if they'd known I would freak out like this? I was almost like an overprotective parent, obsessing over so many __what if___s_. I just wanted to protect them, sure, but they could also protect themselves just fine. I'd seen it in action.

If my grandfather were here, he'd laugh at me.

__Oh, Armin___, _he'd say_,___ the world is doomed to be thrown out of balance someday. But you know something? Today is not that day.__

As I calmed, something else came over me. I hadn't thought of the future since we'd left, but a vision popped into my head, a ridiculous and romantic idea. I wasn't one to jump the gun on these sorts of things, but new __what if__s surfaced in my mind.

What if it worked out? What if it worked out really, really well, and they ended up as partners for life? What if, right now, my two favorite people in the world were discovering a happiness that most took years to find?

Warmth spread through me at the thought. I smiled as sleep overtook me.

Mikasa and Eren. Eren and Mikasa.

How had I missed it?

* * *

__Day 2__

__I'm doing fine. Now that I've gotten some real food in my stomach, that is.__

__So, a few things.__

__Firstly, we have company. Marco and Jean are their names. Marco's the kind of guy everyone wants to be, that one likeable all-around kid everyone respects. Jean is a lot like Eren, but with a little more sense and a much bigger ego. We're taking them home to Texas for 600 dollars.__

__Secondly, just to get this out of my head, Mikasa and Eren are apparently an item. At first, I was scared, but the more I think about it, the more I like it. The funny thing is that they've hardly done much out of the ordinary thus far. I wonder if it's just because they're hiding it from me, or if one of them is shy about PDA. I'd place my money on Mikasa.__

__Thirdly, some development in my "journey of psychological healing", as Eren likes to call it. I don't know if this improves things or worsens them, but it's been discovered that I have no idea who I am.__

__Doesn't that sound so cliche? I used to be so confused by what the phrase meant, but now it applies to me.__

__There are so many different versions of me. Eren's Armin is someone to be protected, but he's also the one who knows what to do when things get rough. Mikasa's Armin is precious and trustworthy. My parents' Armin is a great kid. He's a little fragile, but he's so selfless and smart.__

__Then there's my Armin. Or, rather, the Armin I want to be.__

__He's strong-willed. He's selfless. He needs no protection- as a matter of fact, he's the protector. He's wise and funny. Most of all, he's brilliant. Not just intellectually, but in his mannerisms, he's bright as the sun. Everyone likes this Armin. I like this Armin.__

__Finally, there's me. I suppose this is the "real" Armin.__

__I feel as though Armin isn't even my name. Its root name, Arminius, basically means "whole".__

__I am not whole.__

__I'm not brilliant, either.__

__I'm just me. Weak, calculating, unstable, and embarrassingly socially inept.__

__Everyone has to worry over me. What have I ever done for anyone else? What trait could possibly be redeeming enough to justify my existence? I think and think, because that's all I'm good at, but even thinking can't save me. I'm worthless.__

__My Armin is deserving of his name, my grandfather's name. He is whole.__

__I am not.__

* * *

****A/N: Okay! Chapter 2 is finally here, and I still can't write. Sorry.****

****I was planning to maybe spend a little more time on the development of Eren and Mikasa before I introduced Jean and Marco, but I decided to save that for later. Or stretch it out. Somewhere between those two.****

****Evidently, Eren and Mikasa are a ship. Not sure where I'll go with it, but it's always been an obvious one to me. They just kind of naturally fell together. Really, I just threw it in as a plot device/ something to further Armin's character. Sometimes, you learn more about yourself through helping others. I intend for that idea to be the core of this story, really.****

****Also, sorry if the jokes and flow are dumb. I'm terrible at writing fun, "oh look friends" scenes. I'm definitely a conflict and reflection kind of author. Hopefully, it wasn't too cliche? Please critique me. I need help in that area.****

****As for Armin's thought process, that comes from personal experience. I've never been lost- I am me, but I'm also everyone else's idea of me, and I can accept that- but I can see how it would be confusing, especially when people hold you up to such a word as "brilliant". Still, that's the word I'd use to describe Armin.****

****That Grand Canyon thing was NOT a reference to the PSAT, btw. I actually wrote that BEFORE the PSATs came around. But feel free to laugh, I thought it was funny. Armin may never truly experience the value of P.****

****Hope you enjoyed pyromaniacal Eren. Chapter 3, here we come.****

****I do not own Attack on Titan or any other referenced works mentioned in this story. All rights go to their respectful owners.****


	3. Bickering

**I enjoyed waking early.**

Since I was a little kid, I'd loved rising before everyone else. I felt as though I saw things no one else did, like I was saving time somehow. Sleep was nice, but it was less important than spare time. Or, I suppose, the sunrise.

It seemed that Marco felt the same way. I met him at the motel's measly little outdoor pool before the sky turned light. He found me dipping my legs in the water, swishing them back and forth, half-afraid someone would try to mug me (it's happened before).

"So you're an early bird too," he said. I started at his voice. He smiled and rolled up his pant legs to join me. "I would've guessed as much."

A smile found its way to me, too. "Early birds do get the worm," I said. "Wouldn't want to miss it."

"So what's your worm?" he asked.

"Excuse me?"

"What's your worm?" he repeated. "Your drive? Why are you an early bird?"

"Oh." I shrugged. "I guess I just like the time I save. What's yours?"

"Memories," he answered without hesitation. "when my dad was around, he liked to wake me up early for these dumb little adventures. It was fun, yeah, but I mostly loved it because he'd chosen me. I have two siblings. But he only ever took me with him. I felt...special."

"What did you guys do?"

His smile grew wider. "Dumb things, like I said. Errands. he'd grab some coffee, hot chocolate or milk for me, and we'd set off. Somehow, he made even something as dull as picking up dry-cleaning an adventure. He'd call it our 'mission', like we were secret agents or something."

I could see it. Little, chubby, freckled Marco hopping into the front seat of his dad's car, the excitement in his face brighter than the absent sun. His father's urgent, breathless and melodramatic voice laying out their directives for the morning. It was something I would wake early for, too, even after it stopped happening.

"He liked telling me stories," Marco continued, completely lost in the memories. "I learned a lot about when he was a kid and teenager. He liked to exaggerate. I loved to listen. He called me his little man. Again, out of all of us- Marie, Mason, and Marco- my dad chose me. Being the middle child in my family, I usually got the short end of the stick. I loved my dad for picking me. He made me feel like an individual. Noticed."

Though I felt like I might have been prying, I asked, "What happened to him?"

Marco's smile disappeared. I immediately wished I hadn't said anything.

The air was cool and just a little humid. The sky was dark, almost dangerously so. I noticed that both of us had stopped swishing our legs.

"Remember how I said he liked to exaggerate?"

I glanced at him. His eyes were closed. He was still.

"Yeah," I said. "I remember."

"You know how close exaggerations are to lies?"

"Yeah." _Oh._

Marco sighed. It was a long, drawn out sound. His nose whistled a little as the air went in. I couldn't tell whether he was holding something back or keeping something out. Maybe both.

"Mom kicked him out. Marie, my older sister, never forgave him. Mason, my little brother, hardly even knew him."

"And what about you?" I asked.

"Me," he murmured. "He tried to take me with him. I think that's when I was sure he loved me best. You're not supposed to pick favorites, but he did. Mom wouldn't have it, though. Court said I was hers."

"But-" I stopped myself. _Way too personal, _I thought. Still, looking at him, I felt like I had to ask.

"What about _you_? How did you feel? You've told me how everyone but you reacted. Do you even know how you felt?"

"No, I don't," he said, opening his eyes. He stared into the water. "Back then, I didn't know that the people I loved could be as terrible as the criminals on TV. I didn't understand any of it. I loved my dad. I loved the rest of my family. I just kind of let myself be pulled back and forth , not even caring if I was ripped apart in the process. It's not like I personally had a choice, but if I did, I would've been screwed. So I just blocked it all out while it was happening. I ignored it.

"Now I guess I resent him, but then I do what I just did. I think of him and smile. I remember him as my crazy, fun dad, not some terrible person that broke my mom's heart and ruined my family. Yet I still hate that person. I can't make the two coexist as a single guy. I feel stupid."

"It's not stupid," I assured him. "And your situation truly is a tough one. All in all, I'd say that everything you're feeling is natural and human. Just don't dwell on it. As long as he's not part of your life, I don't think it matters. Maybe it's something you should let lie for now, at least until you feel you're mature enough to really understand it. I think that would be your best bet."

"I guess you're right," he said, finally looking at me. "Thanks. And, uh, sorry for just dumping all that out on you. It feels good to get it off my chest, though."

"That's good," I said. "And I'm only too happy to help. I've never really had family problems myself, but I can imagine it much be rough. They're supposed to be the ones that shield you, after all. It's downright betrayal."

Marco nodded and looked away. I realized my mistake as soon as he did.

"Hey," I began, trying to redeem myself, "tell me about the time when Jean farted loud enough for the neighbors to hear."

He laughed. The sun started to come up.

* * *

"Can I start calling you Grandpa Armin?"

"Excuse me?' I asked, looking up from my breakfast. Eren had a joking grin on his face and a bad case of bedhead.

"I was thinking, and you're pretty much an eighty-year-old in a teenager's body."

"How so?"

He pointed at me. "That's _exactly_ what I mean. You talk like an old man. You dress like one, too."

"No, I don't!" My cheeks began to warm. Eren was my best friend in the world, but sometimes I just wanted to strangle him.

"Yeah, you do. No normal guy wears button-downs and slacks as often as you do. Not to mention your food."

I glanced at my breakfast. Raisin Bran, milk, and vitamins didn't sound like "old people food", did it?

"I hate to agree," said Jean, "but he's got a point. Where's your sense of youth?"

I glowered at the two. "Youth is already innate in me. Why should I feel a need to emphasize it? I like what I like, regardless of whether it's associated with what the elderly enjoy."

Eren snickered. "So what are you saying?" he pressed.

I stood up, surprisingly almost his height, and narrowed my eyes.

"I'm saying that I can play bingo and shuffleboard and watch_ Jeopardy_, dangit, and you can't stop me."

Both Eren and Jean burst into laughter.

"What's with all the laughing?" asked Mikasa, who was sporting a towel on her head. She'd probably just come out of the shower. I'd run into her earlier that morning; she'd been all dressed up for a run. She was a bit of a health nut.

"Yeah, let me in on the joke, too," grinned Marco, sitting across from me with his own breakfast.

"It's nothing," I said, shooting Jean and Eren a silencing look.

"Too bad," said Marco. "I enjoy a good joke. But anyway, what's our game plan for today?"

"Our resting point today is El Paso, Texas," I said. "I've already made reservations at our motel. Mikasa's driving today."

"What?" Eren whined. "Why not me?"

"It's one thing if you endanger Mikasa's and my life. It's another if you kill these two in the process."

"What happens when she gets tired?" Jean asked. "Who's going to switch places?"

"She never gets tired," I assured him. Then I looked at Mikasa and asked, "But what if you do?"

She shrugged. "Guess you'll drive."

Eren groaned. "Please, not again," he begged. "We'll be driving until the apocalypse. Armin drives slower than a turtle walks. _Minivans_ pass us up. It drives me crazy."

"Why? Because I'm careful?" I challenged.

"There's a difference between careful and sissy," he shot back.

"You know what?" Marco said, probably unsure of whether we were really mad at one another. "Supposedly, Mikasa never gets tired, anyway. So that's that."

Eren rolled his eyes and went away to get some breakfast. I returned to mine, eating quickly so I could get a head start on things.

As for whether we were mad, it was complicated. Eren tended to be a bonehead more often than not, so I'd grown quite used to his less rational opinions and ideas. So I suppose I technically was a little irritated, but it's the kind of irritation I'd imagine you'd get from a sibling. I'd seen it with Mikasa and her little siblings, as well as Eren and his older brother. You forgive and forget soon enough, I'd learned.

* * *

Mikasa was a much steadier driver than Eren, which I'd already known. She was very focused, responsible, and even polite. Somehow, she also managed to drive quickly. That was pleasant.

Jean and Eren, meanwhile, were bickering over who got control of the music. Though they had similar preferences, each claimed the other's musical taste was terrible. To settle it, Marco had suggested that they have trial periods. He, Mikasa, and I would decide whose music we liked better. The winner would get to play their music for the rest of the day.

It was Jean's trial period. So far, I was enjoying his music, though- again- it wasn't too different from Eren's. Marco especially seemed to like it.

Every now and again, Marco would tell Mikasa to stop, and we'd pull over so he could get a good shot of some mountains. Both Jean and Eren found it annoying, but I could see why he would do it most of the time. He really had an artistic eye; most of the places he asked us to stop at took my breath away.

Once, he literally screamed, "STOP. NOW."

Everyone, including Mikasa, jumped. She pulled over.

A shaken Jean cursed at his friend. Marco didn't hear him. I watched his gaze, curious as to what could have possibly turned him this way.

On the side of the road sat a mountain like any other. The sun blazed above it, hurting my eyes. I looked back to Marco in confusion.

He kneeled and snapped a picture. Then he turned back, his eyes shining, and hopped back into the van.

Grumbling, Eren shut the door. Mikasa hit the road again.

Marco stared at his camera, grinning madly.

"So…..what was the picture of?" I asked, wondering if I'd missed something.

"The world," he answered. "Life as we know it."

"Cut the pretentious crap, Marco," Jean snapped. "You bursted our eardrums to take a picture of a giant rock. I would say I'm pissed, but I guess I should be used to that by now."

"Maybe it is pretentious," he admitted, "but it wasn't the mountain that made me excited."

"You pronounced _maniacal_ wrong."

Marco shot Jean a glare. "I'm serious, man. I just thought about how time continues. It flies so fast, too. It never stops. You can't rewind it. This second will never pass by again. Neither will that one. And, I don't know. I just got the urge to get one picture of life as we know it in this moment. That mountain's going to change. Maybe tomorrow, maybe long after we're all dead. Maybe it's changing right now. I'm just glad I got that second captured."

"Dude, we realized this in the third grade. Most people do. You just ignore that mess; it's not worth thinking about." Jean shrugged and turned away.

He was right. But the look on Marco's face said that he'd realized something else, something much more important than what he'd told us. Out of sympathy, I decided to give him the opportunity to try again.

"Was there more to that?" I asked.

"Actually, yeah," he said. "But I don't know how to put it. I guess I sort of….re-realized what I said. Like, it moved me." He frowned. "You know what? Nevermind. That didn't sound right, either."

_What's the point?_

"No," I objected, "I know how you feel. It's embarrassing, to say the least. But it- it _feels_ important, right? There's no way to really explain it."

"Yeah, exactly."

He was grateful that I'd understood him; he made that obvious. Still, there was an air of frustration and awkwardness between us, which irked me. I liked understanding and comforting people. I hated the barriers between minds, sometimes. Sometimes, I wished there was a way we could open our minds to others.

As Marco looked away from me, however, I didn't make an effort to reach out again. I probably wouldn't have gotten any further. You can't win them all, I suppose.

* * *

"L."

"M."

"N."

"O."

"Frick, where's P?"

"Look and maybe you'll find it."

"Dude, the only things I've found in this town are ugly stores and old white people."

"You say _white_ like you aren't."

"No, I say _white_ like it's an insult. And it is."

"How so? Anglo-Americans aren't inferior to any other race."

"What the heck is an Anglo-American?"

"A…..white person?"

"How do you not know that?"

"Because I'm white trash."

"Hate to break it to you, buddy, but we're all white here."

"Um….not me?"

"Marco, you're only three quarters Mexican. Get off your high horse."

"Mikasa's half Jap."

"Is is racist to say Jap?"

"That is the exact kind of question a racist Anglo-Mexican-American would ask."

"I don't think it's racist to say Jap. My mom never had a problem with it."

"See? Not racist."

"I think I'm, like, part Amerindian or something."

"What's with the 'might's? You probably aren't."

"Then what's with his skin? No Colorado white kid has skin that dark."

"Oh, true."

"Actually, Eren, you are a quarter Native American. Your dad told me."

"Suck it, Frenchie."

"Who said I was French?"

"But aren't you?"

"Well yeah, but how'd _he_ know?"

"Your name sounds like one of the rats' from Cinderella. Anyway, why are you so unhappy with your race?"

"'Cause white people generally suck, man. Just look at history."

"Yeah, you got a point."

"Also, we can't dance or sing. The majority of us are prejudiced. And too many white celebrities are complete douchebags."

"Untrue. I'm a pretty killer bassist."

"I never said anything about instruments, idiot. But while we're at that, you've got the whole Indian thing going on. Your opinion doesn't count."

"Now _that_ was racist."

"No- I didn't mean it like that!"

"Anyone else notice that Jean's the only purely white person here?"

"Look who's the minority now?"

"Okay, that was racist, too. Admit it."

"Racism against white people doesn't exist."

"Um, it actually does."

"Oh, I forgot about Armin. He's purely white, too."

"But seriously, racism applies to everyone. I don't feel that it should be a joking matter."

"Says the Brit."

"Okay, for real. He's got a point."

"I actually agree."

"Ditto."

"No more racist white jokes?"

"I never agreed to that."

"It doesn't count if we ourselves are white."

"So now we're all white again?"

"Everyone but the Asian and Mexican."

"Is it racist to say Mexican?"

"Dude."

"What? I was just ask-"

"No, not that."

"Then what?"

"Dude."

"Are you messing with me?"

"I found it."

"Found what?"

"P."

"Dude."

"Do I win?"

"Not until you get to Z."

"Frick."

…..

"Where the eff is Q?"

* * *

In the end, Eren won the music contest. Jean threw a fit, but he'd (more or less) won our alphabet game twice in a row, so it wasn't as bad as it could've been. According to Marco, that is. Jean, it seemed, hated losing.

Speaking of Jean and losing, my suspicions were confirmed concerning his attraction to Mikasa. This was perfectly understandable, of course, but that fact didn't make watching him any less embarrassing.

He started by trying to initiate a conversation. I wasn't sure how much he had thought his strategy through, but he obviously hadn't thought as much as he'd needed to.

We'd stopped for a bathroom break. Jean had run off as soon as we'd come to a complete stop, and Mikasa was close after him (considering how well she kept herself hydrated, I wasn't surprised).

They came back with a considerable gap between them. I stayed in the car, perfectly fine for the next few hours. That decision was rewarded (or punished, depending on how you look at it) with a little scene between my asocial best friend and one of our traveling buddies.

There was a heavy silence, first. I knew Mikasa noticed it, because she turned to face Jean before he'd even made a noise.

He froze for a second, but shook it off quickly.

"Uh, hey," he said.

"Hi," she said back. "Did you want something?"

He swallowed and averted his eyes. I almost felt sorry for him. I'd seen this scene a hundred times before.

"No, not really," he admitted. "You're, uh, a really good driver. And you hair is- it's- its-" he cleared his throat "-r-really pretty. Just wanted to say that. Felt like I should. Ma always says that if I had something nice to say, I should say it, 'cause all I ever say is not-nice stuff." He laughed nervously. I cringed and turned away, unable to stand it.

I wanted to laugh, but I wanted to cry. This hurt in so many ways.

"Thank you," she said. "Were those compliments intended to help me see you in a romantic way?"

_Harsh_, I thought. But she had said she didn't like him all that much.

Still, even for Mikasa, this was rough. Way too direct. Almost offensively defensive.

Jean gulped. "Uh, y-yeah. I guess," he said, his voice faltering.

She nodded and looked him in the eye. "I'm flattered," she said. "But-"

She stopped. I caught her gaze, startled. Had she even known I was here?

"What is it?" Jean demanded.

I sighed and nodded_. I know_, I mouthed. She blinked in surprise.

"I…..have a boyfriend," she announced hesitantly, both to me and Jean somehow.

Jean scowled. "Who? Eren?"

"Yes."

"For how long?"

She looked at me again. "A couple of weeks. We've known each other since we were babies. We're really serious."

Jean scoffed, his shoulders sagging. "Fine. Whatever. Thanks for being honest, I guess."

With that, he slumped into the seat in front of mine, crossing his arms and sinking into himself.

When Eren came back, Mikasa said something to him in a low voice. He glanced at Jean and me in surprise.

Though I felt bad for ignoring Jean, I smiled and gave the two a thumbs-up. They smiled back and nodded their heads in thanks.

When Eren took his seat in the passenger's chair, he and Mikasa shared a quick peck on the lips before she hopped back behind the wheel. He glanced back at me, as if to gauge my reaction.

I was actually very, very happy. Almost overjoyed.

Jean looked like he might murder someone.

* * *

Thankfully, my best friends had the decency to be discreet about their affections. It wasn't that I would have been bothered by it, but I was worried about Jean. As was Marco, who noticed the change in both his and the couple's behavior.

He nudged me. "Armin," he whispered.

"Yes?" I whispered back.

He made a gesture to Mikasa and Eren. "Are those two….."

"Together? Yes."

"Oh," he said, looking back at Jean. "I figured. Did, um- did Jean try to…."

I sighed quietly. "Yes, he did. It was a nightmare."

Marco reached forward, as though he was going to comfort his friend, but he pulled back soon enough.

"He probably wants to be left alone right now," he murmured, more to himself than me.

We continued to drive in silence.

* * *

After a while, I noticed that Jean wasn't quite staring out his window.

His head was turned, but his narrowed eyes were focused on someone. Eren.

* * *

"Can someone_ please_ turn off the music?"

Jean's voice was loud enough to pull me from my half-asleep state. The next thing I knew, we were all looking at him. Eren was glaring.

"I won this right fair and square," he snapped. "You'll get your turn tomorrow. Quit acting like a two-year-old."

"You can only say that because you're the one in favor here."

Eren started to rise, but Mikasa grabbed his arm.

"Eren, we're still moving. Put your seatbelt on."

"Who's the two-year-old now?" Jean taunted, not even a trace of a smirk on his lips. He was almost scary.

"If we weren't in this car, I'd pummel you," Eren growled.

Jean scoffed, bitterness in his every move. "Please, kid. I'd bash your face in."

"Jean," Marco finally snapped. Jean ignored him.

"Mikasa, stop the car," Eren demanded.

"No," she said. "Quit acting like a child, both of you."

"Who put you in charge?" asked Jean angrily.

"Listen to yourself, Jean," Marco said, sounding almost disappointed. "I thought you were above this."

"You're not my mom, Marco. And neither are you, Ackerman."

Eren was visibly restraining himself. "Don't talk to her that way," he snarled.

"Guys," I said, my voice wavering.

Jean turned on me. "You stay out of this too, Armin. Quit protecting him."

"_No one_'s protecting me."

"Don't lie to my face, punk!"

"It's like you _want_ to get hurt!"

"Eren, sit down!"

"_Stop the car_!"

* * *

"Why'd you stop?" I asked, dizzy.

"I didn't," Mikasa said, sounding confused.

"Now's our chance, Jaeger. You wanna go?"

"Nothing would make me happier."

The door closed. Mikasa, Marco, and I all scrambled to collect ourselves and get out of the car.

Jean ran at Eren, but Eren landed a solid punch to his throat. Jean began to wheeze.

"Eren, stop!" I shouted. Marco rushed over to help Jean, but he shook him off.

"Stay out of this, Marco," he snapped, his voice hoarse. "I can handle myself."

"Obviously not!" Marco argued, his voice shrill. Just as he was about to go and help again, however, Mikasa called him. I turned.

The van was in the middle of the street. It wasn't a busy road, but we couldn't just leave it there.

"I want to stop them as much as you do," Mikasa said, "but this is a bigger problem. Come help me. Armin, do you best with breaking them up. We both know you won't be much help here."

That didn't even hurt. I nodded and jogged over to Jean and Eren, who were really tearing at each other at this point.

Eren was winning, which didn't surprise me. Still, Jean got whatever shot he could, and he was holding his own. He kneed Eren in the gut, and then kicked him in the chest, causing him to fall. As he took the opportunity to catch his breath, I ran over to Eren and checked his head for any bleeding. Thankfully, there was none.

He started to use me to get up, but I took his hand from my arm.

"Stop it," I said, an unexpected surge of anger bubbling through me. Eren's eyes widened. I stood up, acting as a barrier between them.

"Out of the way," Jean panted. "You're not the one I'm pissed with, Armin."

"That doesn't matter," I replied. "Neither of you are going to finish this. If you want to force your way through me, be my guest, but if I can help it, no one's going to get hurt anymore."

Eren, whom I hadn't seen get up, pushed me behind him.

"You lay one finger on him and you're dead, Kirschtein. You understand?"

"No, he's not," I insisted, pushing Eren back. "You both are going to stop this. Now."

"Armin, I'll hurt you if I have to," Jean warned, moving closer. "Don't think I won't."

"You hurt him, I break you," Mikasa called from the van.

"Jean, quit being a douchebag and call it off!" Marco yelled. "You're the one at fault here, anyway!"

I think we all froze then.

"What did you say?"

Marco looked over from behind the van.

"This. Is. Your. Fault. Jean."

"Who gave you the right to decide that?"

Jean sounded like he was about to break something.

"I'm not your parent, Jean. But sometimes, I feel like I have to act like it. It's like you don't even know the difference between right and wrong. Everything is always everyone else's fault to you. I want you to stop that right now. Apologize and come help us get this van out of the street so we can call somebody to fix it, get back in the car, and go home."

Even from a distance, I could see the intensity in Marco's face.

"No," Jean said, resolute. "I won't."

"Jean, you're only pissed because you like her! Don't do this, okay?! You're only embarrassing yourself!"

"_What_?" barked Eren.

"Marco, shut up!"

"You started all of this because-"

Jean turned on Eren.

"Yeah, because I like Ackerman! But of course, she's stuck with you, isn't she?"

"You hardly know her! You hardly know _me_!"

"Did that change the fact that I got so pissed I had to sock you in the face? Maybe it should have, but it didn't, okay? I don't care if I'm acting like a kid. I just really, really hate you, and I want to beat you to a pulp."

Eren's entire body tensed.

"Glad we feel the same way."

They started to run at one another again, but I rushed to get in between them, my body moving faster than my mind.

"Armin,_ move_-"

I was on the ground, and my nose was bleeding. Tears sprung to my eyes. I clutched my face, moaning.

"_Armin_!"

"I- I'm sorry-"

"Yeah, you really are."

"No, I didn't mean t-"

"What the _hell_, Jean?!"

"He was just there, I didn't-"

"You know what? Pummel him all you like. I won't stop you."

"Marco? I-"

"Save it. I'm done protecting you."

There was the sound of skin hitting skin.

Jean sputtered in pain.

"Stop," I tried to say, feeling sorry for him. "It isn't his fault. I got in the way."

A tissue was pressed against my nose. Mikasa helped me up.

On the ground were Eren and Jean. One was cowering, and the other was simply beating him.

I pulled away from Mikasa and ran to Eren, trying to pull him off of Jean.

Of course, he struggled. But when he saw it was me, he relented, breathing heavily.

"Hit him again. See what happens."

I'd dropped my tissue. A drop of blood landed next to Jean's head.

I extended my hand.

"Sorry," he said quietly. "I was bluffing earlier. I didn't- I didn't mean to- now, even Marco-"

"If I can forgive you, they can, too," I reassured him. He took my hand and stood up.

I hooked his arm around my neck, using whatever strength I had to help him stay up. He had a black eye, a busted lip and eyebrow, hair full of dirt, a scraped knee, and a bit of a twisted ankle.

"Eren went easy on you," I half-joked, pinching my nose with my fingers. "There was this one guy, once, that got a couple of teeth knocked out by him."

Jean shuddered. "Does he work out or something?"

"He trains in hand-to-hand combat. It's part of his anger management. I'm unsure how well his parents thought that one through. Still, you held your own pretty well."

His posture slumped a little more. "If you've ever seen a little kid get mad at the kid that took his snack, you can understand where my strength came from."

I sighed as we reached the van. Eren helped them push it into the grass. After they were done, everyone ate lunch while Mikasa attempted to call someone (a tow truck, maybe?). I stuffed a chunk of tissue up my nose to free my hands. No one looked Jean in the eyes.

I pulled out the first aid kit and asked Jean to sit in the grass. As I cleaned his cuts, he asked, "Armin, do you think I'm a loser?"

I chuckled a little. "Not really."

"That's nice to hear."

"Maybe it's just because I don't know you that well."

"That's a good point, but it's still nice to hear."

I threw the bloody cotton ball in the plastic bag I'd brought, rolling up Jean's jeans to wrap the gauze around his knee.

"Why do you ask?" I wondered.

He watched me bandage his scrape. "I just get it a lot," he said. "Marco's right about me. I act like a baby."

I shrugged and moved on to preparing an ice pack for his eye.

"You're immature, sure. But that's not all of who you are, is it? From the 18-odd hours I've known you, I can tell at least that much."

He snorted. "Well, from the 17 years that Marco's known me, he can tell that I need constant supervision."

"I doubt that Marco's really done being your friend," I said. "Relationships like that don't just end because you get fed up with the other's flaws."

"What about divorce?" Jean asked. "What about brothers that stop talking once they get their own families? That's exactly how those relationships end."

"Those relationships aren't as strong as your's and Marco's, then."

"Yeah, right," he said. "Look, I appreciate the advice, but you're overestimating us. Relationships like yours and Eren's and Mikasa's are the kind of things that you're talking about. I don't think Marco and I are that strong."

I dusted the dirt from his hair. "It's not like we've never fought like that before. Once, Eren and I didn't speak to one another for a whole two months. I'd reported something he'd done to his parents. I told him I was sick of his irrational and impulsive behavior, and he told me he was sick of my weakness. We only made up because Mikasa pointed out to us what we were throwing away."

"And what was that?"

"A brotherhood. A friendship that lasted a lifetime. Someone who knows you in a way you never can know yourself. A chosen sibling."

I handed some Vaseline and a cotton swab to Jean. "For your eyebrow and lip," I said.

He applied the Vaseline. "You think Marco and I have that?"

"Of course I do," I said. "Those kinds of things are hard to miss."

"You could be mistaken. You don't know us that well."

"I could," I agreed. "But I'm pretty sure I'm not."

He rubbed his lips together to spread it, handing the jar back to me.

"Well, thanks," he said. "Especially after I busted your nose."

I grinned. "It's not that big of a deal."

"To everyone else, it was. You're like their damsel in distress."

"It's just human nature. Not many people like seeing the weak get hurt. Eren and Mikasa especially hate it."

"In a way, it's like you're in charge here."

I blinked. "I wouldn't say that."

"Why not?"

"It's always been a cooperation between the three of us. Supposedly, I'm the brains. Mikasa's the muscle, and Eren's the heart."

"Smart, strong, brave," Jean muttered. "Ya'll make a good team."

I stifled a laugh.

"Did you just say 'y'all'?"

Jean looked confusedly at me.

"Did I?"

* * *

Soon enough, someone came to help us. I wasn't sure what the problem was, but according to Mikasa, it was getting fixed.

Both she and Eren had carefully avoided Jean this entire time. Marco, however, seemed to be struggling with his silent treatment.

He kept looking over in Jean's direction. He would make a move to stand, but quickly stop himself as soon as he'd started.

After an hour of this, I finally decided to push him out of his grudge.

"Hey, Armin," he said as I sat down. "What's up?"

"Nothing much," I answered. "Aren't you lonely sitting all by yourself?"

He shrugged. "I guess. I've had time to think, though."

"About what?"

"What I said to Jean. I mean, it was true, but I feel like-"

"Go make up," I interrupted. Marco looked at me with surprise.

"But I-"

"Jean already feels more than guilty. You've done your job. You don't even have to apologize; just be yourself again."

He smiled and tousled my hair. "You know, I'm really starting to like you."

Then he sat next to Jean on the ground. I took my seat back in the van, opening my journal to write.

* * *

_Day 3_

_So much has happened today, and lunch has barely passed._

_Where should I start?_

_Well, first of all, Mikasa and Eren know I know about them._

_Jean likes Mikasa, and he's jealous of Eren._

_They got in a fist fight when the car broke down._

_In that fist fight, I was hurt, which prompted everyone to completely turn on Jean (including Marco, who'd already been fighting with him)._

_Eren beat the snot of out Jean._

_I helped clean him up and make him feel like he wasn't a complete jerk._

_I also helped him and Marco make up._

_We're going to hit the road again soon._

_Also, it's been established that racism against white people exists, and I'm apparently an old man in a kid's body._

_So what did I learn today?_

* * *

I stopped, thinking.

Thinking turned to daydreaming, and once we hit the road, I forgot what I was supposed to be doing.

I closed my notebook and laid my head down.

I would learn later. Right then, I needed a solid nap.

* * *

**A/N: What a terrible place to end a chapter.**

**Still, a lot's happened. I didn't want to overload you guys.**

**But Armin will learn from his life experiences soon enough.**

**As for Eren and Mikasa having siblings? I felt like that fact should be thrown in. I dislike it when authors leave out siblings so more focus can go to the main character. I understand, however, that in the snk universe, most families would probably starve to death if they had more than one child. So I just thought that everyone but Armin (and Jean) would probably have a sibling or two.**

**Also, sorry if certain parts are supposed to be italicized. For some reason, italics and bold don't transfer right from my computer to the copy &amp; paste thing, and I have to individually pick out any mistakes. Please forgive any typos, as well, as those are a result of lack of proper grammar and spell check.**

**Thank you for reading, and thank you all especially for your encouraging and thoughtful comments! ** **Until the next chapter.**


	4. Ineffectual As Ever

****Despite Marco's and my efforts, ****the air was still tense in the car by the time we reached El Paso.

Jean had calmed considerably since lunchtime, but he still scowled every time he caught a glimpse of Mikasa and Eren. Likewise, Eren kept sneaking glances at Jean, as if checking to make sure he wasn't causing any trouble. Mikasa flat-out ignored him, even when he spoke directly to her.

He'd apologized, of course. Neither Marco nor I would leave him alone until he did, even though he was scared they wouldn't accept his apology. Mikasa had nodded in grudging forgiveness; Eren had stiffly shaken his hand.

As another result of their fight, everyone kept asking if I was okay, how my nose felt, etc. It was, in a word, annoying. But understandable, all the same. I was used to it, anyway.

It got me thinking. Why did people feel such a need to protect me? Even strangers were willing to stand up for me, I'd learned.

The answer, of course, was simple, but I couldn't make it make any sense in my mind. I was a thin, pale blond boy with girlish features, a tendency to cry a lot, and a polite demeanor. I was almost the image of innocent, or helpless, in a way.

On the other side of that, I was considerably wise. I would even say that I was more mature than most people my age. I was intelligent and strong-willed when I needed to be. What was there to protect in that?

Why was I someone to be protected? Yes, I was an image of weakness, and yes, I needed protection, but why couldn't I be as strong as anyone else? How did anyone know whether the nerd they were defending could defend himself?

I knew I was being ridiculous, of course. People protected me for the same reason men avoided hitting women. That was it. Heroic instinct.

I suppose I was just frustrated. The most I'd ever protected in my life were a couple of children, once. Never anyone as capable as Eren or Mikasa. I did prevent Eren from hurting Jean too much, sure, but even when I'd stood directly between them, I'd been too weak to last long.

This belonged in my journal, anyway. Why wasn't I writing?

"You should write that down," Marco said. I jumped.

"How did you-"

"It's easy to tell when you're thinking, especially about yourself. Mikasa told me about your journal. There's no point in it if you don't record your thoughts, right?"

"Right."

I promptly opened my composition book and began to add what I'd just thought.

"So Marco," I began when I finished, "how can you tell when I'm thinking about myself?"

"You're face gets really serious when you're thinking," he answered, "and you start messing with your hair when you get self-conscious. I put two and two together."

"Huh." I played with my hair? Since when?

"It's girly, right?" said Eren from the front. It was the first thing he'd said in an hour.

"I don't think so," Marco disagreed.

"Speaking of which, did you think Armin was a girl when you first met him?"

Marco studied me. I knew my face had become flushed. I hated it when Eren brought this up.

"If I'm being honest, I wasn't sure," he said. "His eyebrows and flat chest kind of ruined the image."

Eren snorted. the sound was good to hear.

"I used to make him wear Mikasa's dresses when we were little. He was pretty."

My face was red hot. "Cut it out, Eren."

"Well, you were," Mikasa added, half-joking. I turned away, half mortified, half ecstatic. She was talking now, too.

"I'd bet you were," Marco agreed. Now __he__ was in on it?

"Ugh," I groaned, hiding my face. "If I cut my hair, would you all shut up?"

There was a silence. I looked up, and then immediately wished I hadn't.

Eren's jaw was dropped mockingly. He looked around with a hand on his mouth, slapping the other hand on his knee with feigned excitement.

"Armin said the 'S' word!" he exclaimed.

"Shut up, Eren!"

"There he goes again!"

"I'm telling your grandpa," Mikasa warned.

"Let's calm down, now," said Marco. "Armin, wash your mouth out with soap."

I hid my face again. "Oh, my gosh."

"Did you just take the Lord thy Gosh's name in vain?"

The joking stopped. We all looked at Jean, who'd made the last crack.

Eren's face was simply shocked. Marco was grinning from ear to ear. Mikasa stared blankly at him from the mirror.

I cracked first. Soon enough, we all were laughing, even Mikasa.

"Armin's going to Heck!" gasped Eren.

"Gosh help him!" Mikasa choked between chuckles.

"Save him from eternal dangnation!"

"Shut up, guys, seriously!"

"The-...Ther…...There he….!"

At this point, no one could finish their joke.

Even if it was at my own expense, the tension had been washed away. This entire time, I had been wondering whether, in the end, we'd drop Jean and Marco off as strangers or friends. It was immeasurably pleasing to find that this was my answer.

* * *

As a polite gesture (and upon my insistence), Eren gave up his rights to the radio. Quietly convincing him without alerting Jean had been a challenge, to say the least; when I brought up the subject, he'd almost screamed in outrage. Nevertheless, I reminded him that he would have the radio the entire rest of the trip, and that Jean needed a real sign that we forgave him. Partly because my argument made sense and partly because Eren surprisingly has a pretty big heart, he said __fine.__

After a stop for Mikasa to restock her food supply (at a suspicious-looking store with what looked like several health code violations), Jean switched seats with Marco so he could rest his head properly. This arrangement made it so that Jean and I were seated next to each other, close enough to have our own conversation without having to raise our voices.

"So Armin," he said after a couple of minutes of attempted rest, "what's your family like?"

__What a trivial question__, I thought. He must have been bored. Still, I was happy to answer it.

"My mom's a botanist," I said. "And a part-time post secondary teacher."

"A teacher's assistant?"

"No, a college professor," I corrected, thinking of how to describe her. "She's small and dark-haired, I guess. She's a very organized woman, a planner. She can seem a little stoic at times, but she's a very loving mother and wife."

"How about your dad?" Jean asked, genuinely curious, to my surprise.

I thought. "He's a therapist, but he teaches at the university part-time, too. He looks a lot like me, tall. skinny, and fair, even though I have Mom's nose. He's very protective of my emotions, to the point where it's almost smothering. He likes to joke, too. He sets up these elaborate pranks when he has the time, and God help you if you're his target."

Jean was smiling now. I wonder if this was how Marco felt earlier, swept into the images in his head, unable to stop himself.

"Got any siblings?" he asked.

I shook my head. "I almost had a baby brother, once," I said. "Miscarriage."

"Oh."

"But," I added, sorry I'd mentioned anything, "I have a cousin. We were close when we were younger."

His smile, to my relief, returned. "Tell me about them."

"Her name's Brianna," I told him. "She goes by Bri. Extremely competitive, especially towards me. She lived with my family and I up until the sixth grade, when she moved back in with her mom, my aunt. We keep up with one another."

"That's really nice," Jean remarked with sincerity.

Before he could ask anything else, I asked, "What's __your __family like?"

For whatever reason, this question caught him off guard. He stumbled for a second, trying to fight his obviously blank mind for answers, but he eventually came up with something.

"I live with my mom," he said. "My pops serves in the Air Force, but he travels without us."

"What's your mom like?"

He rolled his eyes. "Smothering. She babies me one minute, paddles me the next. She doesn't know how to knock, either."

I frowned. "So she just walks in? What if you're changing?"

He snorted. "That doesn't scare her. Once, she confronted me in the __shower__. She says that she changed my diapers and whatever, so it makes no difference, but it kind of does?"

My face flushed at the thought. "Ugh, that's so bad."

"Your mom doesn't do anything like that?"

I shook my head. "She'd never. My parents have always been about personal space and giving me room to grow and the like."

Jean sighed. "That sounds nice. Consider yourself lucky."

"I do," I assured him. "I mean, it's a little….__empty __sometimes, but I'm glad for it all the same."

"Empty?" he repeated. "What's that supposed to mean?"

I shrugged, wishing I hadn't said anything about it. "Just lonely, I guess. I really don't mean to complain, though. I've always had Eren and Mikasa to keep me company."

He chuckled. "Sounds like you've got a good balance. I, on the other hand, have three parents: Ma, Dad, and Mohandas Gandhi over there," he said, gesturing towards Marco.

"So how long have you and he been friends?" I asked.

"Since daycare at church, from what we've heard," he said. "Ma and Mom- I mean, __his __mom- gush all about how we'd hang out as babies. Marco liked to hit kids. I stole everyone's toys right out of their hands. According to the available witnesses, we were quite the unstoppable team."

My smile was growing wider with every word. This was enjoyable. "How was he, growing up?"

Jean scoffed. "This is sounding like an interview, but whatever, I'll answer. Marco as a little kid, from what I can remember, was annoying. He was a crybaby. Towards, like, third grade, he started to get annoying because everyone liked him. Even worse, our moms set us up on playdates regularly, and he lived just down the road, so we were automatic friends. Next to him, I was a pile of turd. We're comparing this adorable little angel who was athletic and smart and cool and nice to a mean blueberry with legs who couldn't run across the playground without cutting his rolls open."

"You were….."

"Fat?" he finished for me, though that wasn't the word I'd have used. "Very. Kids on my block called me Fat Jonny. Kids at school called me Mrs. Puff. Wise guys called me Augustus Gloop. I could've rolled down Rainbow Road, I was so round.

"Anyway, yeah. Marco and I stuck together because we were what we knew. I tried to avoid him when middle school started, but then I was just plain friendless, and he was too nice to ignore me. Then, by the time high school hit, we were already best buds. Also, I'd thinned out and people liked me better."

"That's lucky of you," I said.

"More like I got so sick of kids bullying me, I begged my mom to help me get skinny."

"What? No, I was talking about your friendship with Marco."

"Oh." He looked embarrassed.

"You got bullied?"

"Of course I did. Big time, no pun intended. It was really bad."

A wave of empathy washed over me. "Same here," I admitted.

"You?" he asked, incredulous. Then he considered it. "Actually, no, yeah. I can see it. What for?"

"Almost everything," I said. "At first they went for calling me a nerd, but then they started to admire my grades. They targeted my looks instead. They called me Brittany, and they would trick substitutes into thinking I was a girl. During gym, kids would openly use me as a mark of failure. If you were behind me, you were an automatic loser. Once, some kids hacked my hair off. They told everyone I did it myself, which made no sense, but a lot of people- kids and adults alike- believed them."

"That's bad," Jean agreed, "but did they loudly announce it when your buttcrack was showing?"

I bit back a laugh. "No, but they gave me wedgies and hung me on the backpack hooks."

He hissed in pain. "That's a good one. Okay, in sixth grade, kids used to bounce stuff off of me, meaning I was basically hit with a random object every five seconds."

"Oh yeah? Kids used to stick gum in my hair."

"That's not so-"

"At my roots."

"__How__?"

I laughed. "Sometimes, I'd have my hair pulled up. Sometimes, my classmates pinned me down and stuck masses of it all over my head. They'd beat me up afterwards. For a while, my parents kept my hair in a buzz cut. It was awful."

Jean smirked. "Once, on a field trip, some kids made me pee myself by blocking the bathrooms and force-feeding me water. Later the same day, they pushed me down the river and told everyone I'd fallen trying to get a chocolate bar."

My eyes widened with shock. "I can't beat that," I said. "Didn't Marco try to help?"

"Well, yeah, but there's only so much one popular kid can do. Besides, these kids would get him out of the way before the prank was pulled, most of the time. Why, did Eren and Mikasa always save you?"

I nodded. "Eren was at my bullies' throats any chance he got. And all it took was a look from Mikasa, and they would take off. They're the reason I didn't have to go to therapy, because I probably would have, had the pattern continued."

Jean sighed contentedly. "It's pretty great just to have friends, isn't it? Like, that's such a dumb way to say it, but it's true. Sometimes, I just feel like I should stop and appreciate it."

"Yeah," I agreed. "I can completely understand that."

* * *

"Mikasa."

Silence.

"Mikasa."

More silence.

"__Mikasa."__

No words.

"_**_**Mikas-**_**_"

"__WHAT!?__"

Everyone stiffened with shock.

"Just asking if you were okay," Eren said defensively.

"I am," she replied. "Why wouldn't I be?"

We were all silent, unwilling to answer. Eventually, as she began to grow impatient, Marco, Jean, and I all turned to Eren.

"Miks…." he started, clearing his throat, "You were falling asleep at the wheel. And your hands are shaking."

"I'm perfectly fine," she assured him. "But we need to stop soon."

"We just stopped an hour ago," Jean objected.

"Not everyone can whiz in a bottle, Jean," she flashed.

Jean, who had notably not urinated in a bottle since we'd met him, wisely said no more.

"You sure you're fine?" Eren asked.

"Eren, I swear on your brother's grave-"

"But he's not dead. And isn't it supposed to be 'mother'?"

"Eren, I swear on your possible grave somewhere underneath these tires that if you don't keep your mouth shut, I'm going to send you to your grave under these tires."

"That…..didn't make much sense," Marco whispered to me.

"Marco, I will scrape your freckles off and eat them as __sprinkles__."

Marco turned pale.

__Ears like a bat, __I mouthed.

"That goes for you, too, Armin!"

__Eyes like a hawk, __I thought anxiously, scared she could hear that, too.

Obviously, something was wrong. There were many things Mikasa didn't do; yelling, constructing long and specific sentences, being irrational, and threatening the innocent were all on that list.

My first thought was that her time of the month had come, but I quickly remembered that A) that was a sexist and immensely rude thought (as Mrs. Jaeger had ferociously taught me), and B) from an outsider's perspective, Mikasa didn't really get a time of the month. It was always a shock to Eren and I when we found out she was going through it, because she acted just as normally as she always did.

This had to be something much worse.

When we stopped, Mikasa was in the bathroom for thirty minutes.

"Is she okay?" asked Jean, looking worried. "First she snaps at us, and now this."

Eren couldn't keep himself still. He was looking pale, and he sat at attention, completely caught up in his own thoughts. He was most likely debating whether he should go to check on her.

He always got like this when Mikasa seemed to be physically hurt or ill. I understood his worry, too. She was one of the strongest and healthiest people we knew; she had to have something considerably bad to look off her game.

"I'm gonna check on her," he finally said, standing up.

"I'll go with you," I told him. He clapped a thankful hand on my shoulder, and together we jogged to the store.

Luckily for us, the bathrooms were the kind that permitted one person at a time, so we could speak to her without being overheard or interrupted.

Eren knocked urgently. "Miks, you okay?" he asked.

We heard retching in reply.

"Mikasa, can you unlock the door?"

More retching.

Eren darted away, coming back seconds later with an employee.

"Your friend must've had something rotten," he remarked at the ruckus, fumbling with the keys.

"We're coming in now!" Eren announced as the employee turned the burst into the bathroom as soon as it was unlocked, racing to her side to comfort her.

She was leaned over the toilet, which was filled with vomit. As I thanked the disgusted employee, Eren pulled her hair away from her face and rubbed her back. I kneeled next to them and felt her forehead, which was thankfully only a little warm.

"Mikasa," I said, placing a hand on her shoulder, "what's wrong?"

"I don't know," she answered sluggishly. Her eyes began to tear up. "Armin, I need to lie down."

"I'm gonna get a bucket," I told Eren. "You stay here and help her out, okay? When I get back, we're going to carry her to the car."

"You're driving," he said immediately. "And okay."

Luckily for us, Marco and Jean came to help. I watched the cashier give us an awed look, and I supposed that we must have looked kind of crazy.

There's a little thing called Murphy's law. It says that anything that can go wrong will.

With Eren's cuts, Jean's black eye, my panic-stricken expression, and Mikasa's vomit, we might as well have been Cirque du Murphy. I found this funny, for some reason.

* * *

As it turned out, Mikasa had gotten some food poisoning. As neither Jean nor Marco had a driver's license, and upon Eren's insist, I took the wheel.

Mikasa finally stopped throwing up once we were on the road. Lamentably, that meant that we had a large, full bowl of vomit on our hands.

"This is so freakin' nasty," Jean complained, choking on the scent.

"I'm with you on this one," Marco agreed. "Armin, what should we do with this?"

I shrugged. "Think of something, before we hit any bumpy roads."

"Luckily for us, at the speed Armin goes, it'll be like the bumps don't exist," Eren reasoned. I decided to take that as a compliment.

"Maybe we can stop at a ditch or something," Jean suggested.

"Good idea," said Eren.

Marco cringed. "But what if an animal eats it? Or worse, a drunk guy?"

We all collectively shuddered at the thought, sarcastically thanking him for the image.

"Would __you __like to drink it, Marco?" Jean challenged. We all shuddered again.

"Ew, no," Marco answered.

"Then a ditch or something it is. There's no other way to get rid of it."

Eren made a face. "We really should've waited until she was done to leave."

"Brilliant idea," Jean said sarcastically. "Hindsight truly is 20/20."

"Hey, stop here," Marco told me. I pulled over next to a patch of woods.

Marco hopped out, dumped the bowl, and ran back in.

"Floor it," he ordered. I did.

"That was probably somebody's property," Jean noted. I caught his eyes in the mirror. "In this case, Armin," he said, "'floor it' does not mean 'press the gas a little harder than you normally would'. In this case, 'floor it' means frickin __floor it.__"

"I am," I argued.

Eren slammed his hand on his armrest.

"For the love of __Gosh__, Armin, hit the gas as hard as you can!"

"Oh."

I did.

* * *

Mikasa was sound asleep by the time we stopped for dinner. By Marco's and my demand, we went to Subway, stopping at a park to our meals. The sun was beginning to set.

"Hey, Marco, wanna go eat in that fort over there?"

"You bet."

The two hurried away, grinning widely.

Mikasa's head lay in Eren's lap. At an attempt to be more considerate, Eren had draped his hoodie over her face to avoid getting food on her while he ate. I didn't have the heart to tell him what a ludicrous idea that was, so instead, to avoid laughing, I pretended as though Mikasa had gone with Jean and Marco.

We ate in comfortable silence for some stretch of time. I watched the sun set while Eren spaced off, scarfing down his food within a couple of minutes.

"Thanks," Eren said once we both were done.

"For what?" I asked, trying to keep my voice soft for Mikasa's sake.

"A lot of things," he answered. "This trip is supposed to be about helping __you__, but so far, you've helped everyone else."

"I wouldn't…." I started, but Eren was already objecting.

"First, you invite these guys. Then you kept me from seriously hurting Jean, which sounded good at the time, but probably would've bit me in the back later. Plus, you helped him and Marco make up."

"You saw that?"

He nodded "I caught glimpses. And on top of all that, you helped us really forgive each other."

I shook my head fervently. "That was a mutual effort," I argued. "Just because it was at my expense doesn't mean that-"

"That's what I mean, Ar. You haven't even considered that you could have stopped us, just because we were embarrassing you."

"Eren, please, I'm not-"

"Armin, you are." He gave me a smile, a real one. His entire face relaxed, affection filling his eyes. I suddenly remembered why we'd been friends since kindergarten.

"If it helps any with what you've been fighting, you're a selfless guy, Ar. Thats not my opinion, either; it's a fact."

His words lodged something into my chest and throat. I nodded and smiled, not trusting my voice.

Eren wrapped an arm around me in a hug, a considerably rare gesture, coming from him. I was grateful when he let go, afraid he would hear me repressing my tears.

You see, I had come to a realization.

Eren and Mikasa both had so much faith in me. They respected me, loved me. I felt the same towards them.

But what I'd said to Jean earlier? About us being a cooperation?

I'd realized that that was a lie.

Sure, we made a good team. I contributed something important, and I wouldn't deny myself that.

Nevertheless, we lacked something very important in a team. That is, balance.

Everyone's strength had to match the other's. My brilliance had to match up with Eren's heart and Mikasa's physical ability. And, in ways, it did.

It was my weakness that threw everything off. As I'd stated in my journal, I could find no redeeming quality within me to justify it, not for all of my brains.

So all this selflessness Eren was crediting me with? It wasn't true. He and Mikasa were always, __always __protecting me. I only ever did them a favor once in a while. We weren't a team; I was a parasite, and they were my ignorant hosts.

After dinner and before we were back on the road, I finally found something to write in my journal.

* * *

__Eren is wrong about me.__

__I am weak.__

* * *

Our next motel was about on par with our last one. The only difference was that they didn't, in fact, serve food. I felt queasy at the thought of eating at the nearby McDonald's for breakfast.

Mikasa had almost made a full recovery by bedtime, which honestly surprised neither me nor Eren. She was still sort of clumsy, but she seemed to be functioning just fine otherwise.

When it was my turn for the shower, I took it gladly, warily taking in the quality of the bathroom. A tad dingier than our last one, but it wasn't anything to cry over.

Once the water was on (the heat turned all the way up) and I was behind the curtain, I let my mind go blank, just standing there and enjoying the water running down my skin.

And that's when it made its grand reappearance.

__What's the point?__

There was an odd noise. It took me a second to realize I was wheezing.

__The point doesn't matter, __I thought desperately. __No one knows what it is, but-__

**_**But what's the point?**_**

__It doesn't-__

**_**What's the point of you?**_**

"__Shut up.__" I hissed to myself, to my thoughts. I wouldn't let it crawl back. I wouldn't burden my friends again. There was no way I was letting it drag me down as soon as I'd started over.

For once, I rushed through the shower. I needed to get out of my thinking space. Thoughts were the enemy right then.

I tugged on my sweatpants and T-shirt, tying up my hair, swinging the door open-

And there were my two best friends, sucking face.

They weren't even just making out. From what I could tell, they were well on their way to third base.

Mikasa noticed me first. She sat up abruptly, grabbing her clothes and beginning to stutter something. Eren was a split second later, fixing his shirt and cursing under his breath.

There was something strangely disturbing and gross about it, like walking in on your parents. Feeling like my face was on fire, I muttered an apology and hid on the other side of the wall, hoping I wouldn't vomit.

"You're….out early," Eren remarked from the other side of the wall.

"Can we just, like, not talk?" I replied. "Please?"

"I vote we pretend this never happened," Mikasa said gravely.

"In favor," Eren and I chorused.

Thankfully, there was silence.

Until:

"Unless, of course, you're interested in a threesome-"

"Oh my __God __Eren!" Mikasa's voice had raised a few octaves.

"We could use your slender body-"

"This isn't even funny!"

Yet, as I screamed this, hysterical laughs bubbled through my words.

"You're on the floor for that," Mikasa said heatedly. Obviously, she wasn't as open to humor at the moment.

Eren and I shared the same awkward, painfully nervous, yet somewhat relieved guffaws . Mikasa made a heavy noise of exasperation.

I brushed my teeth and hair before sliding into my own bed, my face still hot and my head still spinning.

Later, I was grateful for the distraction. I realized that, had things gone as they normally did, my little voice would have creeped up on me sooner or later that night, and I would have been pushed right back down to square one.

* * *

__Day 3/ Day 4__

__It's 2:27 A.M., and I'm scared.__

__I'm not afraid of the dark, though without this light I wouldn't be able to see. I'm not afraid of being murdered in a hotel, either. I mean, I used to be, but not anymore.__

__But now I'm scared. I can feel my thoughts spiraling out of control, running away from me. I'm thinking too much. It's too quiet in here. The AC isn't loud enough. Mikasa and Eren's breathing can't be heard from where I am. All I hear are my thoughts, my thinking, and I need it all to stop. Now.__

__I've never had trouble sleeping. Not chronically, anyway. But tonight I do. Something woke me up and kept me awake. Something's out to get me.__

__Even worse, that something is inside of me.__

__I'm beginning to hyperventilate. I need to write faster, to get all of it out, but I can't. I can't write that fast, I never could.__

__How do you stop thinking? Or do you never stop? Do you just keep on talking to yourself and talking to yourself until your brain dies? Why is it so easy to stop breathing when thoughts keep plowing through you, no matter what you tell them to do? I never told my lungs to stop, but here they are, stopping.__

__I can't breathe. I can't breathe.__

__I ca__

* * *

I couldn't breathe.

Eren was by my side in seconds; my breathing must have woken him. Mikasa wasn't far behind.

"Ar," he said, trying to erase the panic stressing his face, "listen to me. Listen to my voice."

His voice. Deep. Steady. Sure of itself.

"That's it, Armin. Just concentrate on what I'm saying. Hold on to every syllable. Keep your eyes on me."

Eren. He was caring. He was like my brother.

"You're doing great. Just focus on me. You're okay. Can you breathe? Breathe for me."

I took a deep breath. The spots clouding my vision disappeared. I hadn't noticed them before.

"That's great, Ar. Keep doing that. Don't stop."

I breathed. I didn't stop.

Someone was stroking my hair. They sat next to me on the bed, held my hand. It was Mikasa.

"You okay?" Eren asked.

I nodded.

"Listen, Armin. If you need something to do, watch a movie. Eat something. Read a book. Mikasa and I are here for you, because we care about you, man. Take care of yourself."

"Thanks, Eren," I said, feeling better. "I'm sorry."

He replied with a worn smile. "Just don't scare us like that. If you need anything, wake us up, okay?"

I nodded. Mikasa planted a kiss on top of my head, squeezing me one last time before following Eren to the other side of the room.

I did as I was told, grabbing the portable DVD player and popping in one movie after the other. Still, as I distracted myself, I began to sink deeper and deeper into a sorrowful, regretting feeling.

* * *

__I am so, so weak.__

* * *

The next day, I woke to Mikasa shaking my shoulder. I'd overslept.

After I grudgingly opened my eyes, she said, "I would've carried you to the van, but you're just not so little anymore."

The worst part was that she wasn't even joking.

I groaned as I sat up. There was a light throbbing in my head.

"You still probably could've done it," I said, standing up. Then, realizing that I was at least a few inches taller than her, I mumbled, "Maybe not."

We cleaned after ourselves, met Jean and Marco in the parking lot, and loaded up the van.

"Well," Marco said as Mikasa pulled out of the lot, "today's the last day."

"Finally," Jean sighed. "Can't wait to be back home. Ma said she'd make taffy."

Marco grinned. "Now __I __can't wait."

After a pause, he looked at us.

"Do…."

"Marco," Jean warned.

"Do you guys-"

"Marco, n-"

"Do you guys wanna stay over when we get there?"

"Heck yeah," Eren answered, not missing a beat.

"Sure," Mikasa and I said collectively.

"Great!" Marco replied, excited. "Ah man, Marie and Mason'll love you guys. And- Jean- we could show them the….uh…..the tree thing!"

"I don't wanna show 'em the tree thing," Jean mumbled.

"Well, too bad, 'cause I know you do, so we're going to."

"Do you see my life?" he asked me exasperatedly. I chuckled.

"So your mom's making taffy?" Eren asked Jean. "What kind?"

"The kind that's not for you."

"Yeah, Eren," I said. "We can't just expect Jean's mom to make a bunch of food for some random strangers."

"Oh, she'll make food," Jean said. "You don't even have to ask her. Every night is Thanksgiving at my place. Just don't go asking for stuff, 'cause she'll go above and beyond, and next thing I know, she'll have a stroke because she's worked herself ragged."

"Okay," I said. "Don't ask for stuff, Eren."

"So we're staying at your place, Jean?" Eren asked.

"I never said-"

"Yes, you are," Marco answered, shooting Jean a meaningful look. Jean sighed and stared back out the window. "My house is full. Sorry. Jean, call Ma and tell her."

"Whatever," he grumbled, pulling out his phone.

"I have to show you our town," Marco said to me, his face bright with elation. "Maybe we'll run into some of Jean's and my friends. I know Mom'll want to meet you. Dude, this is gonna be so awesome."

"Sounds like we'll have a blast," I agreed, beginning to match his level of enthusiasm. It was almost impossible not to be excited when Marco was excited.

Jean held out his phone to the rest of us.

"Ma wants to say hi," he informed us with a particularly flat tone.

"__Hi, everyone! I just want to say thank you for helping my son come home to me, and I'm honored to be hosting you later today. Have fun, kiddos! Can't wait to meet you."__

"Thanks!" Eren, Mikasa, and I said in unison. Jean put the phone back to his ear, looking as though he was considering suffocating himself with the blanket on his lap.

"Ma said hi, Marco," he said.

"Tell her I said hi back," Marco replied cheerily. Jean's frown somehow deepened as he passed on the message.

* * *

Sometimes, I feel as though "firsts" get just a little too much credit.

Don't get me wrong; being the first is always significant. Without the first, a series doesn't exist.

But consider the "seconds". Sure, the first put the idea into existence, but it wouldn't be a series if the second hadn't shown up. We tend to discredit many second times just because they weren't as memorable or as significant at first times, when in actuality, if it weren't for the second time, the first would never have grown into the 100th.

I say this because, while Jean and Marco were the first passengers, the first adventure we encountered upon the Jaegermobile (as we'd officially named it), our next ones were equally, if not a pinch more, important in the pattern that was set. The next set of companions we found changed the course of our road trip. They set a pattern, a series. Because they were there to be our second adventure, my trip turned from seeing some interesting sights to really and truly finding and healing myself.

This is where my story really begins.

* * *

We were driving down a road lined along a sizable field. Jean and Eren were squabbling over the music again. I was reading, and Marco was staring out the window, camera at the ready once more. We'd only stopped a few times this time around, most likely because Marco was eager to get home. Once in a while, he'd turn to me and share some thoughts, but for the most part we stayed in comfortable silence. Well, silence plus Jean and Eren arguing. I guess that's not really silence at all. It's actually kind of the opposite of silence. Anyway, Marco and I didn't talk.

After a while of this, and out of nowhere, the van slowed. All of us looked up at Mikasa.

"What's up?" Marco asked.

"Hitch hikers," Mikasa answered. "They look around our age. Should we pick them up?"

Everyone turned to me. I shrugged, straining to see who Mikasa was talking about. "As long as there aren't a lot, we have some room. It'll be kind of crowded."

"Oh, I see them. There're just two," Eren said.

"Hey, Jean. Open the door," Marco said.

Once we slowed down to them, I finally got a good look.

There was a boy, small-ish and olive-skinned, and a girl wearing cowboy boots, her reddish brown hair tied into a high ponytail.

"Hop in," Eren said. "We're kinda packed, but you should be fine."

"Thanks," the girl said, climbing over Jean to the seat across from him. After clumsily asking permission, the boy sat between Marco and me. Jean shut the door. The two held their luggage on their laps. Mikasa started driving.

"So what are y'all's names?" Marco asked.

"Oh, I'm Sasha Braus," said the girl, "and the midget next to you is Conny Springer."

The boy, Conny, bristled. "So that's how you introduce me? Not even, 'this is my friend', but 'the midget next to you'?"

Sasha snorted. "Well, you said you were getting sick of the bald jokes."

"So you make fun of my height?"

She shrugged. "Maybe next time you can do the introductions? You can say anything you want about me."

"What about-"

"Except that."

"Dang."

"Okay, shut up now." She looked at the rest of us. "So who are you guys?"

Marco piped up. "The girl driving over there is Mikasa. The guy in the passenger's seat is Eren. The guy with the two-toned hair is my friend Jean. Over across from me is Armin, and I'm Marco. Jean and I are heading home, and these guys offered to take us. They themselves are just driving around, if I'm not mistaken."

"Nope," Eren confirmed. "We've got pretty much nothing to do."

"Where are you going?" Mikasa asked.

"New Orleans," Conny answered. "We've been traveling around for forever, but-"

"- it's time to stop," Sasha finished. Conny shot her a glare, but she ignored it. "My cousin lives in New Orleans, so we figured we'd hang there for a while."

"Why don't you just go back to your parents' house?" Jean asked. Sasha seemed to really notice him for the first time. She gave him a dirty look.

"Not everyone can live with their parents after high school," she shot. "My dad's struggling with money, and I can't get a job back home. I'd just be a burden."

"Oh. Sorry, I didn't mean-"

"It's fine. Honest mistake." Still, she didn't look at him.

After an uncomfortable period of quiet, Conny said, "I can't live at home either, 'cause it's jam-packed. I'd be sleeping in the backyard."

"Seven sisters," Sasha explained, probably glad that someone broke the silence. Everyone but Jean gaped at Conny, who was beaming at our reactions.

"All of 'em are a pain," he said. "Except Jasmine."

"Jasmine's cool," Sasha agreed. "Anyway, thanks for picking us up. We were out there for, like, an hour."

"She ate all of our snacks," Conny complained.

"Well, Conny, I was hungry. What else was I supposed to do?"

"Have some patience?"

"You want to talk to me about patience?"

"Jean," Marco said, "tell Ma we'll have more guests."

Jean scowled. "Ugh. Can't you guys just, like, stay at a motel nearby?"

"Of course," Sasha said without an ounce of sarcasm, visibly forcing herself to look him in the eye. "We'd hate to impose. Please, don't worry about us."

I studied the interesting expression that Jean's face formed. There was surprise, irritation, and- yeah, definitely- guilt. Lots of guilt.

"I, uh-" He cleared his throat. "I mean, it wouldn't be all __that __bad. Ma'd be happy to have more guests, since she loves people. It would save y'all some money. And her food is good."

Sasha's face softened into a smile. "That's really kind of you, but we really-"

"Please, just accept it," he spat. The van was silent.

Sasha nodded.

"Alright," Conny cheered, "Actual food!"

"You saying my sandwiches aren't enough for you?" Sasha challenged, flipping switches at the first chance she got.

"That's __exactly__ what I'm saying," Conny confirmed. He was promptly met with a flying cap in his face.

"Then next time, I'll eat all of those, too."

"Like you weren't already."

For whatever reason, my mind flashed back to the night before. My head had been filled, overflowing, with thoughts and fears and crisis. Now it was quiet, observing, happy. How different these situations were. I suppose company made all the difference.

It wasn't until later that I realized exactly how true that statement was.

* * *

****A/N:****

****It'd be cool if you actually read these. Most of it's talking to myself though.****

****And, after forever, I've skipped my homework to complete chapter 4. Really, I just wanted a chapter to show that "hey, everyone's cool again", then appreciate Jean and Marco's time there before they had to leave, and at the same time introduce Sasha and Conny.****

****As for the random panic attack, I wanted to show exactly how random Armin's instability is. I feel like it's more realistic to keep him in a place of discomfort and occasional mental problems while keeping him out of full-blown panic and breakdown, since that's how it normally is for me. Don't get me wrong; I've never been so bad that anyone called an ambulance, but a lot of this does come from experience with instability and a mind that just won't shut up.****

****Jean and Marco's "y'all"s are written by a Texan with a portrayal of how we actually use the word. Sometimes we say "you guys". Sometimes, we say "y'all". Sometimes, we say "y'all guys". Also, in case you didn't notice, I thought it'd be fun if Jean called Marco's mom "Mom", and Marco called Mrs. Kirschtein "Ma", like they shared moms. I've always wanted a friend that close. Sadly, we always move before I can get any closer than "they come over for sleepovers on my birthday".****

****Sorry if I inconsistently spell Conny's name.****

****The walk-in scene was for A) comedy, and B) to keep Armin from being dragged back to his initial state. Mikasa getting sick was just to keep things interesting, I suppose. Writing her in a feverish, not-like-herself state was fun, too. Just a warning: I'll do that a lot. Throw in dumb plot points for filler, that is. I really suck at pacing; this is my way of patching that up while I try to learn to keep myself paced. Any suggestions for that?****

****Well, this just turned into me explaining why my writing sucks. Just look at the dumb scene where Armin and Jean are talking. You know what that was? A little foreshadowing, but mostly me writing out my headcanons. This chapter took forever to write, and it's full of crap because nothing was there to move it along. Luckily, the next chapter will **** _**_**not **_**___****be the same. I actually have plans and plot. Important stuff.****

****Still, I hope you enjoyed the silliness here. Fanfictions are supposed to be fun, after all. That's why I love this site; I can write, and no one's gonna call the story police because I have typos or really sucky filler.****

****Again, thank you all so much for your comments. They're literally my inspiration. Literally.****

****Until next chapter. :) Really hope you enjoyed this one.****


	5. The First Solution

**Icarus &amp; I**

**Chapter 5**

**The First Solution**

* * *

**After a few more hours, **Eren knocked on his window to get our attention.

"Check it out." He pointed ahead.

A sign was planted in the ground beside the road. It was solid, if worn, and simple.

_Welcome to Trost,_ it said.

"We're home, Jean," Marco said. Jean didn't try to hide his smile.

"Finally."

* * *

Jean gave us the directions to his house. It was unsurprisingly simple, as Trost was a considerably small town. Most of it was made up of neighborhood, and the roads weren't complicated.

"Here it is," he said, stopping Mikasa at a pale orange one-story. A garden embellished the well-kept front yard, a single, looming tree casting its shadow over us. It tangled with the other trees on the street, making the neighborhood feel like a sort of forest.

We decided to keep our luggage in the car until further notice. Jean and Marco led the way down the pavement and to the front door.

"Watch the grass," he warned me. Startled, I hopped back onto the pavement. Eren and Mikasa, who lingered at the back of our formation, made sure to do the same.

Marco rang the doorbell, which sang a short and simple tune. The door opened, and there stood Jean's mother.

She was a stout woman, and rather short. Wrinkles lined her face, some laughter lines, some worry creases. Gray streaked through her tawny brown hair, which she'd pulled tightly into a thin ponytail. As soon as she saw us, she forced Jean and Marco into a tight hug, ushering us all inside warmly.

I liked her already.

* * *

Jean's house was cozy and comfortable. I was a tad jealous; my own house was filled only with modern decor and a plethora of cabinets, as well as some plants. I'd only ever lived in a homely, slightly messy house when I was with Eren or Mikasa's family. Again, it was nice to have a spotless living space, and guests were impressed, but sometimes, to me, it felt empty, like a mess would have been a sign of familiarity or company. Still, Jean pointed out rooms and decorative items sheepishly, as though he were embarrassed.

"That's Ma's room," he said, gesturing to the door. "Don't bother her if she's in there. That right there is my bathroom, but it's also kind of the guest bathroom, so don't go in there until I say so, 'cause it-"

"-looks like a homeless man hides out in there and lives off of toothpaste," Marco interrupted.

"It's messy," Jean finished, lacking the energy to acknowledge him. "Down the hall is the guest room, where someone can stay, thankfully separated from Ma's and my room by Ma's office. Don't go in there, either; that's her work space."

"What do you mean 'thankfully'?" Eren asked. Jean looked at him.

"The guest room is where one- or two- of you will be staying. It's kind of small, so someone's gonna have to sleep on the couch."

"That didn't answer my-"

"He's giving you and Mikasa permission," I whispered. The words had barely come out right, I was getting so flustered.

"Permission to wha-"

"You and your girlfriend can have sex in the guest room, if you're quiet enough."

I didn't know whose face was redder. Jean allowed himself a small smirk.

Eren started, dumbfound and mortified. "That's none of your bus-"

Jean rolled his eyes. "All I'm doing is giving you permission, Jaeger. Calm yourself. Don't let Ma know, though. She doesn't care if you're not her kids, she'll call your parents and make you read a good chunk of the New Testament."

"Thanks," Mikasa said. She put her hair up; she must have been hot in the neck. "That's…..considerate of you, Jean."

He shrugged. "Once, I had to help Marco with something like-"

"Something that's not anyone's business, not even yours," Marco cut in, his face quickly flushing. Jean chortled. Sasha and Conny shared a look of astonished amusement.

I caught Eren looking at Mikasa, his thinking face on. It really wasn't any of my business, but I wondered if they'd actually…..well, to be juvenile, done it. A few weeks wasn't long at all, but I knew that Eren was impulsive, and that Mikasa didn't know what to do when logic wasn't the answer. I also knew that they were both still young, and that both were considerably good-looking, and that they were very, very close, which most likely mean that they were very, very in love, which could have lead them both to very, very irrational decisions.

Then again, what say did I have in this? Not only was I not them, but I myself was (unsurprisingly) a virgin. When my dad had given me "the talk" (this was so juvenile, I couldn't stand it), he'd told me that sex could be many different things, all of it depending on who you were asking. To some people, it was simply an activity, a way to unwind and deal with the stress of life. To others, it was the deepest expression of love they could muster. To many, it was a combination of the two.

I suppose I only would have been concerned had Eren and Mikasa had intercourse for the first reason. It really, truly, honestly was not any of my business, and just the thought made me cringe in embarrassment, but I was worried for my friends, concerned for their well-being. I wanted my best friends to fall in love the right way, because I couldn't stand the thought of them being hurt by one another. If they did have sex, I would have been worried that it was an impulsive thing, something not thought through, or worse, something without much emotion. Then again, as I'd thought earlier, I knew my friends. Eren didn't often listen to reason, and he had a bad habit of giving in to his temptations, but when it mattered, he was careful. Thinking about it, I doubted he would be okay with rushing into something he wasn't ready for, at least in this scenario.

As for Mikasa, she didn't have many strong urges or desires that weren't worth listening to in the first place. True, when bad urges popped up, she was unsure of how to deal with them, but I began to doubt that she would screw something as big as this up.

Just from watching them, I could tell that they weren't just trying one another out. Eren and Mikasa must have been in love for a long time, and they fit together so well, so seamlessly that their affections blended in until they were invisible. I wanted them to stay that way, maybe improve. I wanted them to be happy so badly.

_And meanwhile, Armin Arlert has only ever kissed a single girl, and he's dated zero. _

And there went that.

I sighed and moved on. Sometimes, I wished my mind would just be quiet.

* * *

Jean proceeded to show us the backyard (beautifully tended and spacious) and the garage (yet another room we did not have permission to enter) before telling us that we could go get our luggage and pile it up in the parlor (_neatly_, as he'd emphasized).

As we did, I caught glimpses of Mrs. Kirschtein fussing over Jean's black eye. He continually tried to duck away from her, but eventually, she got him in a secure grip. Escape was impossible.

As I set my last bag down, I heard her ask, "What happened, Jeanny? Did you get into another fight?"

"No," I heard him lie. "And don't call me that. This was an accident."

"Oh, really?" Mrs. Kirschtein sounded skeptical. "You mean to say you didn't get into a fight with that young man over there?" She pointed to Eren, who had his earphones in.

"No," Jean repeated.

"Then why is his face all banged up?"

Jean shrugged. "I don't know, Ma. Stuff just happens, okay?"

"Do you think I'm stupid?"

I fought a small shiver. Jean froze.

"No, ma'am. I don't."

"Then tell me the truth. Did you or did you not have a fight with that boy?"

"Why does it matter?"

"So you did?"

"So what if I did? What would it change?"

"Did you apologize?"

"Ma, I'm not a kid anymore. Of course I did."

"Good."

Jean sighed.

"Jeanny, it matters because I don't want to see you caught up in your own foolishness. You've always been a stubborn boy, but there's a greatness in you that needs to show through. I don't want to see it choked away by spite."

"So you want me to be like Marco?"

There was a bitter edge to the question. I wondered if the subject had been brought up in the past.

"No," she answered. "I want you to be the best Jean Kirchstein there is. The caring, brave, strong boy your dear Mama knows. Okay?"

I heard a soft shuffling. After a quick peek, I knew that Jean and his mother were hugging.

Needless to say, Mrs. Kirschtein was right. From what I could tell, Jean was a good guy, maybe even a great one. He had all of the qualities of a leader, and despite his rough and childish nature, he was a respectable person. Maybe, someday, he'd find that out for himself. No one would compare him to Marco. No one would compare him to anyone. Jean would just be Jean, and that would be perfectly enough for all that knew him.

* * *

Any description for how good dinner was would be an understatement.

Jean did not lie about his mother or how she cooked. As soon as I'd caught a whiff of food, my mouth had watered uncontrollably. After a few minutes, I heard Eren's stomach growl all the way from the living room (I knew it was him because when Eren's stomach rumbles, it also kind of sounds like he has diarrhea, and it's a faintly disgusting sound).

Around ten minutes before we were called to the table, however, I caught yet another glimpse of something that maybe I wasn't meant to see. Again, Jean was involved.

The other party was less expected.

I was reading in the parlor. It was beginning to get dark, and it had come to my attention that, while Colorado was irritatingly hot, Texas was practically steaming. I wondered how anyone survived here, especially in the summer. Uncomfortably enough, I found myself in a lone T-shirt and some jeans I'd rolled up to my knees. I'd chosen the parlor to read because it was cool in there, and quiet. Nobody bothered to socialize or spend their time in the parlor for some reason, so my self-consciousness didn't get to me too much. I was perched next to the window, where a soft breeze blew through occasionally.

I suppose that neither Jean nor Sasha had noticed that it was open, even if it was a little cracked.

"Come on, Braus. Don't be this way."

Jean's voice was recognizable by its low nature, as well as the way he lightly touched his consonants and lingered on his 'S's, like he had an accent of some sort.

Of course, I knew the girl's voice was Sasha's. I was considerably good at remembering names, and I knew that Jean had a habit of referring to people by their surnames when he was being impersonal.

"I told you already, Conny and I are fine."

"If you're really struggling with money, then-"

"It's none of your business!"

A Southern twang revealed itself in Sasha's voice. I heard a clapping sound, imagining it was her hand hitting her mouth.

"What?" Jean asked, caught off guard.

"Leave me alone," she finally said, her voice back to normal.

"Braus-"

"It's Sasha! _Sa- sha._"

The twang was back.

"Where does that accent keep coming from?"

"None of your business, like I said."

"At least stay over. We're not asking you to borrow fifty million or anything, we just have to-"

"You don't. This is too much."

"Look, I'm not gonna stay back while you throw yourself into debt because you're stubborn, okay?"

"There's not even room for us!"

"There is! There's space in the attic, and we have an inflatable bed."

A pause.

"Why didn't you say so earlier?"

"Because Ma doesn't like making guests sleep there. It's kinda messy. But there's room."

Silence.

Then:

"Fine. We'll stay. But I at least have to help around the house somehow."

"I'll see if Ma'll be okay with that, but sure."

"Good."

"And Sasha?"

Another pause.

"...Yes?"

Jean spoke with some difficulty.

"Your, uh, accent's not bad. You shouldn't-"

"-Not bad?"

Jean growled in frustration. "It's _cute_, alright? I don't get why you got all embarrassed by it, I mean."

"Thanks."

Her voice was very soft.

Jean grunted in reply, and I tried my best to delve back into my book. I was beginning to feel like an intruder.

* * *

"Full name. Age. Hometown."

The words flew from Mrs. Kirschtein's mouth as soon as we were gathered in the dining room, plates ready in our hands.

I stood at full attention in response to her authoritative presence. "Armin Arlert, seventeen. Shiganshina, Colorado, ma'am."

"Fitting," she said, as though I knew what she was talking about. With a nod at me, Mrs. Kirschtein turned on Eren.

"Oh- uh, Eren Jaeger. Eighteen. Shiganshina, same as him."

She offered him a warm smile. "Strong name. Thank you, dear."

As soon as she looked at Mikasa, she was met with, "Mikasa Ackerman, eighteen. Shiganshina, Colorado. Nice to meet you, ma'am."

Mrs. Kirschtein looked pleased. "Gorgeous name," she remarked. "It's a pleasure to meet you, too."

"Conny Springer, eighteen, Ragako, Arkansas."

Mrs. Kirschtein looked him over, sizing him up. I could feel his confusion and fear. Jean had definitely inherited her narrow, piercing eyes.

"Good," she said, turning to Sasha. Conny relaxed.

"Sasha Braus, seventeen. Dauper, Arkansas."

"Lovely," said Mrs. Kirschtein. She looked at all of us, lined up military style (though I didn't recall making the formation). "My name is Cheryl Elizabeth Kirschtein. I am forty seven years old."

(At this, we all shared shocked glances.)

"I was born in Dallas, Texas. I believe that a person's name and their birthplace says quite a bit about them. And, so far, I adore you all."

A smile unquestioningly created itself on my lips. I didn't have to look to know that Eren and Mikasa, at least, were wearing similar expressions.

"You've found excellent friends, Jeanny." Mrs. Kirchstein told Jean. He kept his eyes averted from us.

"I barely know them," he muttered. "And quit calling me that."

"Okay, time for grace," she said, ignoring him. "Marco, why don't you lead us in prayer tonight?"

Marco nodded. "Yes, ma'am." As he bowed his head, I elbowed Eren to get him to follow suit. He elbowed me back once our eyes were closed, as if to say, _I was going to do it anyway._

"Dear Father," said Marco steadily, "we thank you for the food we have to eat tonight. We thank you for our safety and for all of the things you give us. We thank you for our guests, and for Mikasa, Eren, and Armin's generosity and kindness. We thank you for their friendship. Please bless this food and keep any impurities out of it, and please bless our evening to be one full of happiness and peace. Please bless the less fortunate, help them out of their circumstances. Bless Mr. Kirschtein, Lord, that he may be safe and have company in a foreign land. And finally, bless Armin, Eren, Mikasa, Sasha, and Conny on their journeys, so that they might be safe on the roads. In Jesus's name we pray, Amen."

"Amen," we all echoed. All I could think was that it felt like an honor of sorts, to hear your own name spoken to God.

I personally have no religion, but I think I do believe in a God of sorts. A higher being, an invisible and inescapable force. Something that created all of this, something that keeps it organized and fascinating. Something that can take it away on a whim.

I've been prayed over before, but not often, and not by someone I knew. There was a certain feeling I got over hearing Marco put in a good word for me. Maybe gratitude. I don't think there's a word for it, really. But I liked the feeling.

Anyway, dinner, as I'd stated earlier, was fantastic. Mrs. Kirschtein had prepared a feast: homemade bread rolls, hand-made mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, stuffing, and honey-soaked ham, which she looked to be ashamed about, as it was a leftover from the day before. Her abashment made no logical sense whatsoever.

Once dinner was over, Mrs. Kirschtein insisted upon cleaning up herself, but the rest of us forced her to sit down as we cleaned up.

Sasha was a very efficient cleaner; she got most of the work done. Conny honestly tried, but he was so clumsy that we ended up excusing him from doing any more work, just to get him out of the way. I was worried we'd hurt his feelings, but he seemed chipper enough.

Jean and Sasha unintentionally became a team. He was her director, guiding her around the kitchen and how a certain dish should be washed and so forth. She was the one who put his directions to action. They were a force to be reckoned with, especially compared to Eren, Mikasa, and me.

Needless to say, we weren't half as efficient as Jean or Sasha. Mikasa was decent with cleaning, but that was about it. Eren wasn't so much clumsy as he was aggressive, but when he wasn't aggressive, he simply meandered around, lost on his responsibilities. After a while of this cycle, Jean frustratedly excused him.

I personally couldn't clean very fast, so I was put on leftover duty, which suited me fine. I've always been good with spatial guessing, so I hardly ever misplaced a food into tupperware that didn't fit it. Thinking about it, that's not really bragging maerial, but I contributed well, in my humble opinion. Within the hour, we were done. It was dark outside, and Mrs. Kirschtein had fallen asleep in the living room.

I watched Jean rush over to her, covering her with a blanket, fiddling with the AC, moving her neck to slide a pillow under her head. When he was done, he gave us each sharp looks.

"She wakes, you die. Understand me, Jaeger?"

Eren scoffed, but caught a look from Mikasa and calmed down.

"Of course, Jean."

"How about you, Springer?"

Conny only looked slightly offended.

"I'll use my inside voice, Dad," he mocked. Jean rolled his eyes, kissing his mother's forehead shortly thereafter. It was a funny contradiction, but I didn't dare laugh.

Instead, I took a seat at the dinner table again, exhausted from all of the cleaning. I was smiling, I realized. I was having a good evening.

"You wanna head outside, babe?" I heard Eren ask.

Mikasa snorted softly. "Did you just-"

"Figured I'd try it out."

"I think I like it. Let's go."

Then Conny's voice.

"So what do we do now?"

Sasha. "I guess we could walk around. Or watch a movie. Once _Jean _gives me the WiFi password, that is."

"I'm telling you, I don't remember."

That one was Jean. I heard a smirk in his words.

"Yeah, you do," Marco said. "I'll tell 'em if you don't."

Things were going well. My stomach was full, the house was getting colder, and I was surrounded by all of these wonderful strangers. Mrs. Kirchstein was resting, my best friends were loving, my newer friends were joking.

Even the light above the dining table was soft, buttery. I rested my head in my arms. My bangs were a much different yellow. Not golden, but not yellow like a daffodil, either. They stood out from the light. It was an intriguing sight.

Was there a point? I didn't know.

But I did know that this moment was a snapshot that would fade, a second never to pass by again because time moves in a straight line, forward and never backward. I knew that I'd never see that stiff strand of yellow hair against the honey light again. At least, never in the same way. And, while things would repeat over and over again- friends would joke, tired mothers would find rest, lovers would explore themselves- there was no moment like another in exactness. Kind of like people.

This was all because life kept moving. Soon enough, that light bulb would shift into something harsher. Sometime, Mrs. Kirchstein would wake. Eren and Mikasa would come back from their stroll, hands locked together. Jean, Marco, Conny, and Sasha would all leave the group, one at a time.

Maybe the point didn't matter. Perhaps the answer was to simply move with the flow of time, not wasting a second over impossible questions, instead enjoying each moment in its preciousness and saving it for later, for less glorious moments.

I liked that answer. It didn't necessarily feel true, not completely, but I liked the thought.

* * *

_Day 4_

_We're in Jean's house in Trost, Texas. It's lovely here. _

_Today we picked up some hitchhikers, named Sasha and Conny (or is it spelled with an 'ie'?). Sasha's funny and likeable, and very strong. Conny's just as funny, if not funnier, and he's clever. He's definitely not book smart, but he has a knack for finding shortcuts. I like them. We're taking them to New Orleans._

_Jean's mother likes names. She's one of those people that you love instantly, like she was born to be a mother figure of sorts. She's just as stubborn as Jean, but much kinder (though today I think I've seen a side of Jean that exhibits the capacity of his heart, and I have to say that it's quite large)._

_I have an answer to my question, about what the point is and whatnot. It's not __**my**_ _answer, so it's not enough, but it's a good one, so I feel the need to write it down._

_The point could simply not matter. Maybe the best way to live this life is to ignore the point, instead living in the moment and enjoying each second we're all graced with. _

_But I can't do that, and this is why this can't be my answer._

_If I were a different person, I could accept this. But I'm not. I'm me, and I need closure. I can't just ignore the question altogether, because- well- because I'm missing an extremely crucial fact. Facts mean solidarity, and I need a substantial idea to complete this puzzle I'm standing in. _

_It's like we're all in this tube of air, and there's this hole that's sucking all the air out. Some people would try to enjoy their last precious breaths, but I'm not satisfied with that. Because of who I am, I need to find the plug to the hole. Even if it costs me my last moments, I can't quit looking for it._

_But I've found something, at least. Something is better than nothing._

_Well, it's late, and due to Mrs. Kirschtein's (seemingly) permanent placement on the living room couch (aka where I was supposed to sleep), I'm staying in Jean's room while he sleeps in his mother's bed. His bed is perfectly comfortable, and his entire room smells pleasant, like freshly cut flowers. Oh. I just realized that that would be because there are pots of flowers on his window sill. That's lovely. I wonder if his mother just cleans and cooks most of the day. She must be a very dedicated woman. _

_Well anyway, as I was saying, I wouldn't want to overstay my welcome in Jean's room. The earlier I rise, the better._

_Good night._

* * *

And a good, dreamless, restful night it was.

* * *

**A/N: The next chapter is literally right there. I wrote both, for reasons explained in the next author's note. Merry Christmas (and happy holidays)!**

**(Also, I keep seeing more and more typos as I reread my chapters, so please forgive me.)**


	6. The First Good-Bye

**Icarus &amp; I**

**Chapter 6**

**The First Good-Bye**

* * *

"_Armin."_

I started at the sound of my name. Someone was shaking my shoulder.

"Hey. Morning, bud."

I couldn't tell whether it was Jean, Marco, Eren, or the President of the United States of America talking to me.

"...It's still dark," was all I could manage. My words were squeaky and small.

Finally, my eyes had fully adjusted to the dark. Marco's rounded features revealed themselves to me. I thought he was smiling.

"Okay, man, grab on some clothes and meet me in the parlor. You've got fifteen minutes."

"To sleep?"

"To be ready. Armin, I'll drag you out of here with just your boxers and T-shirt on, if I have to."

I think that's what drove me to action. Even while half-asleep, I was totally unwilling to go out in public with my underwear in sight.

So Marco left, and with reluctance, I hurried to pull on some jeans, my sneakers, and a T-shirt I only suspected later of being Eren's (I didn't quite catch how loose it was on me when I put it on).

When I met Marco in the parlor, he giggled and smoothed down my hair.

"You look like death," he said.

"I feel like death," I replied. "What time is it?"

"Four a.m."

"Marco, I can't do whatever this is. I went to bed at midnight, and it kind of runs in my family to have low tolerance for getting less than five hours of sleep."

"Ar, this is important, okay? Just come on. You'll have fun once we get some coffee."

I stiffened at the sound of my nickname. Only Eren ever called me that.

But it wasn't like I disliked Marco using it.

I nodded. Marco grinned and grabbed my arm, silently closing the front door behind us as we left.

It was pleasant out. I half-wondered when the sun would come up and burn us to death.

Marco hopped into a minivan on the driveway next to our own van. It hadn't been there the day before. Also, Marco didn't have a license, which I pointed out to him.

"I have my permit," he dismissed. "Around here, this early, no one's gonna notice us. And if they do, the officers know me. We won't get into any real trouble."

"What are we even doing?" I finally asked.

"Armin," he said excitedly, "you and I are going on an adventure."

* * *

Our first stop was the gas station. This van, Marco explained, was his family's, and his sister had given him the keys the night before. He filled up the tank and ordered me to fetch us coffee.

"Fill mine up with as much creamer as you possibly can. And buy whipped cream."

Because I was confused, bewildered, and just a tidge excited, I followed Marco's example and filled my own coffee with creamer, though I myself was more of a milk and sugar fan. The cashier looked at me curiously when I checked out.

"You from around here?" she asked. She was young, maybe around my age. Low pigtails framed either side of her face.

"Nope," I answered. "Just, uh, staying over with some friends."

"I thought not," she said. "In that case, welcome to Trost. Hope you enjoy your….two cups of coffee. And your entire can of whipped cream."

"Thanks."

I didn't bother trying to correct her, but something told me she was just joking around in the first place.

Marco was waiting in the driver's seat when I got back. I told him about the girl, asking if he knew her.

"Ah," he said, furiously attacking his coffee with whipped cream. "Yeah, that was probably Mina. I would drop in and say hi, if we had the time. I'll see her later, anyway. Glad you met her; she's basically the only other person that Jean and I hung around this last year. Her and Samuel. Plus, she's cute. Did you think she was cute? She's really darn cute."

"I guess she was cute," I answered, gladly taking the whipped cream he offered me.

"No, Armin. Mina is _the _cute. She is the essence of Cute. Do you understand?"

"I didn't really take the time to memorize her face or anything."

Marco huffed. "The face of Mina Carolina is something to behold. You just want to pinch her cheeks until they're tomato-red."

I shrugged. "Again, I didn't really notice her."

"Do you do this with all girls?"

"Do what?"

"Ignore them. Like, I don't know, have you ever had a girlfriend?"

I laughed. It was a short, incredulous sound. "No, never."

He strapped on his seatbelt and started the engine. "Well, are you not interested in girls?"

"Pretty sure I am," I answered, thinking about past experiences. "Probably exclusively."

"Well, what you just said is why, then! Romance may not be everything, but if you've never had it, you don't know what you're missing out on. Step up your game a little."

I snorted. I had no "game" to begin with.

"Marco, I've crushed on two girls total in my lifetime, and I believe that I have the right to say that that kind of thing is not for me."

"So you're giving up on it?"

"No," I corrected, "I'm being patient. For….someone special, I suppose."

"Special," he repeated. We were getting back on the road. "Like...what? What's your ideal?"

Again, I shrugged. "It's hard to think of one when the looks aren't what I'm necessarily after. They can come in any package. I do think, nevertheless, that I have preferences personality-wise."

"And those would be…."

"Someone smart, definitely. Maybe not as nerdy as me, but someone who can understand the world complexly and with an open mind. Definitely someone who likes learning, too."

"Is there more?" Marco asked after a pause.

I shrugged. "Not really. Like, it would be nice if they understood my silly references and were smaller than me and were kind and funny, but I feel like that's not only unfair, but it's kind of impossible."

"That's actually a really good point," Marco mused. "But okay. Do you ever just think a girl's pretty or anything?"

"Of course. Mikasa, for example."

"Okay, _besides _your mom."

I allowed myself a smile at that. "Okay, I suppose that Sasha is pretty. Her hair's a very nice color, and her face has a naturally sweet nature to it."

"Anyone else?"

"Umm…..Eren's mother is _very _beautiful-"

"Are you seriously-"

"Alright. How about I tell you about my first and only kiss? If I do that, we don't have to talk about this any more. Deal?"

Marco's face brightened. "Definitely. Deal."

If I were being honest, though I was glad to have Marco (mostly) off of my back, I didn't like telling the story. Still, as we rolled down a secluded highway, I started.

* * *

Her name was Rachel, and she was indeed very pretty. She was around my height, maybe a little shorter, with dark brown curls she kept short and large, round eyes the same color. Her face was heart-shaped, and she had this adorable button nose. She was soft, and curvy. If you looked at her one way, she was noticeably cute. If you looked at her another, she was beautiful.

Rachel was a hard worker. A straight-A student, she was ranked just a few people below me in our school. I was number three; she was number seven. She was interested in foreign cultures, specifically Middle-Eastern and East Asian. She spoke a plethora of languages fluently.

In relation to me, she was a distant friend. We talked, but not often. Still, when we did talk, our conversations were pleasant and interesting. I liked her.

Eren was in football his freshman and sophomore year, and Mikasa was in soccer every year up until she was a senior. We had plenty of jock friends, so even I was well-known and, surprisingly, liked in those sorts of cliques. For the heck of it, we were invited to a big game in our junior year, even though by that time Eren had been more into basketball. And, because we were at the game, we were invited to the afterparty. I wasn't a big fan of parties, so if it were up to me, I would have declined, but Eren wanted to go, and some of Mikasa's jock buddies and fanboys absolutely begged her to go. Knowing Mikasa would be occupied, I went to keep track of Eren.

At first, I did exactly what I was supposed to: kept Eren away from the alcohol, kept him calm when someone angered him, talked him out of stupid ideas. But after some time, these girls started flirting with him (though I doubt he realized it), and I felt awkward just standing there, so I told him I'd be on the couch.

Seeing what the couch was occupied with (the kind of thing you'd expect), I hung by a wall, wishing there were a quiet place to go that wasn't already taken. I strongly disliked parties for this particular reason. They were simply too loud, too overloading. I didn't understand how people enjoyed it.

"Hey," someone half-shouted in my ear. If they hadn't, I wouldn't have heard them.

I turned, and there was Rachel Delaney, smiling at me. She was overpoweringly cute, in her slipping glasses and oversized hoodie. Her curls were loose from their usual ponytail.

"You look very nice," I said. My voice wasn't loud at all, but I supposed she understood me, because her smile widened.

"You don't look half bad yourself," she returned. I glanced down at my outfit: jeans and a sweater over the button-down I'd worn that night. It was what I usually wore outside of school; I wondered what she found different.

She read my expression well. "I mean generally," she clarified. She might have laughed, but I couldn't tell.

_She thinks I look nice? _I thought. This was definitely a first.

Attributing her compliment to my sudden and recent growth spurt (5 inches in six months, most likely a record of some sort), I brushed it off as just that: a trivial compliment.

"You wanna go somewhere quiet?" she asked.

"If you know a place, then please," I answered with gratitude.

She took my hand and led me to the backyard. From there, the music was a dull pulse. I worried a little about Eren, but I could see him from the window. The girls were still trying their best to make a pass at him. He was still...well, being Eren.

There were a few couples out here, but I only suspected one of needing some real privacy, and once my suspicions were confirmed, they quickly removed themselves from the rest of our presences.

Rachel and I sat on a bench on the porch. We were awfully close, her arm touching my side, but I thought nothing of it. She was probably chilly, and I didn't blame her.

We just sat and listened to the night for a while, until she finally broke the silence.

"Why do you keep your hair so long?" she asked me, holding a strand of said hair in her hand. The gesture surprised me a little, but I was more or less used to people playing with my hair by then.

I shrugged. "It's just the way I've always had it, since I was little. I think my mom didn't want to cut my hair when I was younger, so she let it keep growing. It's nice to have, though. There's no real point in keeping it this way, but I have a sort of attachment to it, if that makes sense. I think I would panic if it were cut."

She laughed. "That's cute."

My face flushed. Normally, I disliked being called "cute", but I didn't feel insulted when Rachel said it. It felt like a genuine compliment.

There was more silence. Rachel was one of those people that you could be quiet with, no matter how close or distant you were.

Then she shifted away from me, looking me in the eye.

"Okay," she said. "I have a...game. We can play. Close your eyes."

Though I was confused, I obeyed. "What kind of game is it?"

"God, you're cute."

"Excuse m-"

And, next thing I knew, she'd stolen my first kiss.

I didn't respond, mostly because I didn't know what to do. But she guided me through it, placing my hands on her waist and telling me how, exactly, to kiss back. Rachel was that kind of person, logical and ready to utilize whatever tools she had to get what she wanted. In this case, her tool was knowledge.

I thoroughly enjoyed it. I didn't know where she got her experience, but it was obvious that she wasn't a novice. But what _really _confused me is that she chose me. Armin, aka Brittany, aka Coconut Head, aka "that one smart kid".

Rachel Delaney thought that I, of all people, was cute.

Interesting.

* * *

"Okay, but details?" Marco asked. I blushed.

"One thing."

"What?"

"She kept saying things in different languages."

"Like...?"

"Um, Japanese, Spanish, Italian, some more obscure ones. I told you she was...multilingual, I think the word is. I understood some stuff, but most of it was lost on me. It was...attractive.

"Anyway," I continued, ignoring Marco's grin, "so yeah. That was my first and only kiss. I suppose it was a good one, though it was a little awkward."

"So she liked you?"

"I don't think so, no. At least, not in a personal way. After watching her for some time, I came to realize that Rachel was just the kind of girl who reached for something when she wanted it. And, that night, she wanted to kiss me, or teach me to kiss, more like, because I guess she found me cute. She allowed herself to burst down most social barriers and unwritten rules just to get what she wanted. Our relationship pretty much remained the same afterward."

"What was some of the stuff she said?"

I folded my arms and turned toward the window. "Uh, nothing important."

"You sur-"

"Positive, Marco. Confident in my judgment."

Again, I tried to ignore Marco's teasing smile. He hadn't seemed like the teasing type to me at first; I'd felt that he was too polite for it. Though I always felt uncomfortable and awkward discussing experiences such as these, I became glad that he'd asked. I felt that we really were friends.

"It's a shame you're leaving today," he sighed. Marco was beginning to make me reconsider the improbability of mind-reading.

"It really is," I agreed. "But on the bright side, we can always call each other or chat online."

He gave a half-hearted nod. "I guess. If school doesn't keep us too busy."

We stopped in front of a small Wal-Mart. "What school are you going to?" I asked.

"Well, my first choice was Sina U-"

"Really? That's where I'm going!"

His eyes widened in utter shock. "_Sina University? _Dude, how loaded are your parents?"

Embarrassment began to overtake me. I wished I could take back my exclamation.

"I mean, they're payed well, since they're college professors, but that doesn't really have much to do with it..."

"How? How does it not?"

Again, I'd said too much. I wondered if I was upsetting him.

"...I...got a full scholarship. I guess."

Marco's jaw hit the floor.

"You _guess?_"

"It's really not that big of a deal, I've just always liked school, and I do well on exams-"

"Armin! _What _is your IQ, man?"

"...156?"

Marco clapped his hands together, bowing his head.

"Marco, what-"

"I am in the presence of a god. Have mercy on me, o wise one. Let your colossal brain spare me from consumption!"

I chuckled, relaxing. "Oh, come on. IQ's and scholarships don't mean that much, and you know it."

Marco's head bowed even more deeply. "O, Great Arminius, god of Knowledge and Eyebrow! I apologize for disgracing your presence with my absurd but totally justified worship!"

"Marco, quit already." My chuckles were turning into serious, hiccuping laughs.

"Okay, okay," he relented. "Just...jeez. Wow. You're really, really smart. Like, close to Albert Einstein smart."

"I suppose," I said. "That's what people tell me."

"Do _you _believe it?"

"I guess I have to-"

"But do _you_ think you're smart? No humility from you, no judgment from me. Just honesty."

I could have dodged the question. Sure, I liked Marco, and we were friends, but this felt too forward. I hadn't answered this question yet, not even to myself.

But I remembered a few things. Firstly, that it would be hypocrisy to give Marco anything but the truth when I myself had asked him a question this personal, maybe even more so. Secondly, that I was sick of these barriers that society builds in our minds, separating us simply because our culture values personal space and individuality (both of which are important, of course, but I believe that the principles set around preserving these concepts should not be used 24/7, as it limits the wonders of human closeness. If there's one thing that irks me, it's the idea of a stranger). Thirdly, that if I wanted to find myself, this was a good first step in the right direction. If I were to ask myself what I thought of Armin Arlert, what would I say? Not Armin as in me, but Armin as in Armin, as a whole. If I were God, or an alien, or some being that watched over me without ever knowing who I was, what would I say?

"I think...I think I'm a genius of sorts," I answered. "And there is some positive connotation in that word- genius, I mean- but there is just as much negativity, if not a little more. Many people highly value having an abundance of intelligence, and maybe that's because geniuses, or their names, are immortal to us. But actually having the trait, I feel like it's simply something I'm good at. I'm just a naturally gifted thinker, like some people are gifted with strength, or some with bravery, or some with creating things. Our society places an emphasis on intelligence, because thinkers are what our economy needs, but in actuality it's no greater than being a gifted pianist, or being incredibly attractive or funny. Like you, for example, Marco. What's your IQ?"

Marco, looking a little dumbstruck, stuttered, "Uh- 114."

"So you're maybe not an _incredible_ thinker, according to a test, though you're above average. But do you know how you're a genius, Marco?"

"How?"

"You inherently know how to treat people. Your gift is handling people, and you are the kindest, gentlest, most understanding person I've met in a long time. My guess is that a lot of people like you? No humility, no judgment here. I'm right, aren't I?"

He nodded to confirm this.

"It's because you're the kind of person everyone needs. You'll be there to love anyone at any time, and most people can't say that they're the same. You've pretty much given up your life in service of others, and you've never needed a push into that direction, because it's your gift. That's how you're a genius. And maybe Sina University didn't ask you whether you'd be there to keep someone company or whether you'd protect a stranger or whether you'd counsel your worst enemy in his best interest, but that's not how genius should be measured in the first place."

Marco was still. It took me a moment to see that his eyelashes were dripping.

After a second, he sniffed and wiped his eyes with his arm. He laughed.

"Jeez, Armin, this was supposed to be about _you_. You've ruined everything now."

"Everything?"

"The entire reason I brought you out this morning. To hep you learn about yourself."

"What do you mean?"

He looked at me. "Mikasa told me everything. About the breakdown, your panic attacks, how you've always been fighting this. Everything. Once I heard about why you're traveling, I wanted to help. Last night, I decided that this was how I'd add to your journey, and that's why I was asking you questions and stuff. Partly because I want to know you better, yeah, but mostly to help you think about yourself. And you just flipped this entire scenario back toward me. You just..." his voice choked up. "Don't do that to me, Ar."

"Oh. Well, I'm sorry-"

"Don't apologize, you douchebag! That was the most beautiful thing anyone's ever told me about myself. Do _not _apologize for what you just did. My dad never told me that, my mom never told me that, my siblings never told me that. Only Jean ever came close. He just told me, one day, 'Y'know Marco? You're a pretty great human being.' And all this time, I've been feeling terrible because my dad picked favorites and it hurt my sister, and I've been wondering why people like me so much when I'm just some nosy, bossy kid who thinks he's everyone's parent, and you just made me think that _I'm_ not the reason dad picked me, and I'm not responsible for him leaving. And you just turned my opinion of myself flat on its backside, and now I'm not butting my head into places it doesn't belong, I'm caring for those I love, and that's how I've felt this whole time, but I've also been worrying so badly that I'm just annoying to everyone, and they're all too polite to say anything. Armin, you've just made my whole week. We are going into this Wal Mart, and I'm buying you a whole entire box of doughnuts after we get all of our groceries. Then I'm going to drop off the dry-cleaning in the back. Then I'm going to take you to meet my family, and they're going to love you and there is a chance that along the way, I may fall for you and your powerful way with words. Come on."

With that, he left the car and promptly grabbed a shopping cart. I was close after him.

* * *

Marco lived on the same street as Jean. I recalled this fact as we passed by Eren and Mikasa jogging side by side down the sidewalk. Eren slowed, confused, but Mikasa simply waved and kept going. She tugged at his hand to hurry him along. He obliged.

"They're so cute together," Marco said. "I don't know how I didn't see it before, but they really are. I'm shipping it so hard."

That elicited a pleased and proud beam from me. "No one ships it more than me," I said.

"I believe that wholeheartedly."

We pulled up to a powder blue two-story, just a few houses down from the Kirschtein's. There were several trees in the front yard, and a sturdy-looking bike sat chained to one of them. The lawn was well-kept, if just a bit overgrown, and wildflowers popped in and out between trunks.

We parked in the driveway. Marco walked in without knocking, calling, "We have company!"

"Is it Armin?"

It felt odd, but pleasing, to hear a stranger know my name.

"I told them about you," Marco explained to me. Then, back to the woman (girl, female voice, whatever I should refer to her as), "Yeah, Ri, it is."

"Does he like fried eggs?"

Marco looked at me. I shrugged. "Sounds good."

"Yes," he said for me.

We turned the corner. In the kitchen, hovering over the stove, was a full, relaxed-looking girl with glasses. Like Marco, she was covered head to toe in freckles. She wore her long, curly black hair in a ponytail down one shoulder, and she and Marco shared the same dark, round eyes. When she smiled, a lone dimple revealed itself in her cheek.

"Marie," she said, holding out a hand. "A pleasure to meet you."

"Armin," I returned, though I figured she already knew that.

"Cool name. You're taller than I imagined, to be honest."

"Erm, thanks." I took it as a compliment.

"So you like fried eggs? Because, I don't know, I was planning to cook some breakfast for myself, and then Marco was like, 'I have a friend coming over', and I just thought, 'it'd be cool if I could make him breakfast'. So, yeah. Here you go."

I accepted the foam plate, loaded with dry toast, bacon, and- as promised- fried eggs. Luckily, I hadn't eaten any of the doughnuts Marco bought, so I was perfectly hungry.

"Thank you," I said.

"You want coffee?" she asked.

"Already had some," Marco told her. "Also, groceries are in the van, just an FYI." He guided me to the dining table, set between the kitchen and living room. We both took a seat. Marco began to eat the doughnuts.

"Morning," said another voice. I turned to see what almost looked like a slightly younger version of Marco, a boy around fifteen or sixteen. But he was lankier, his hair shorter, his face square shaped rather than rectangular. Also, there wasn't a freckle to be found on him.

"Morning, Mason," Marco returned. Mason blinked, surprised, and then quickly made his way to his older brother, hugging him on sight.

"I was here last night, you know," Marco said, hugging him back. "The one night you go to be early, you miss me."

"Wait, so you're giving out hugs, now? I want one," Marie demanded. She left the stove to wrap her arms around him.

Marco laughed when he caught my eye. "Let Armin in the group hug," he insisted.

"You're Armin?" asked Mason. Marie grabbed me and squished me against them.

"Yes," I answered. "Nice to meet you, Mason."

"You, too," he said. "You're a lot prettier than I expected."

"Did you tell them I was ugly and tiny?" I asked Marco. Everyone collectively giggled.

"Absolutely," Marco said. "I couldn't let them know how charming you really are, or Marie would have snuck by Jean's house just to look at you."

"Oh, shut up," Marie retorted. We dissolved the group hug.

A door closed behind us. A woman, sturdy-framed and huddled over, entered the dining room.

"What's all the ruckus about?" she asked. Though her hair was messy and her face was drawn and worn and silver hairs were tucked behind her ear, I thought that she was beautiful. A cup of coffee was in her hands, a blanket draped over her shoulders. I felt guilty that she'd woken up, whether or not I actually had anything to do with the fact.

"Mom," said Marco. Her features brightened at the sight of him. She placed the mug on the table, and opened her arms to him.

Marco picked her up, almost spinning, but he stopped himself and placed her back down.

"Please, don't kill me just yet," she chuckled.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly.

"It's alright," she assured him, turning to me. She offered me her hand.

"You're Armin, right?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said. She had a slight accent.

"I'm Marco's mother, Lucia Espinosa. Call me whatever is comfortable for you. And sorry I'm meeting you like this; I didn't expect such early company."

With this, she shot a glance at Marco, who shrugged. "Sorry, Mom."

"Does everyone want fried eggs?" Marie asked.

"Why don't you ever ask if we're okay with toast and bacon?" Mason asked back.

"If you don't like toast, more for me," she explained. "And no one in their right mind doesn't like bacon."

"Where's Jean?" Ms. Espinosa asked Marco. "Still sleeping?"

"Yes," said Marco, though I didn't remember him ever checking to see if that fact was true.

"And the others that brought you two here? Eren and...Mikasa?"

"Going for a run right now," Marco told her. "They'll come over later."

"How is Cheryl? I've been cooped up in here so long, I haven't spoken to her since your graduation."

"Same as always."

"And your trip? Did you get any good photos?"

"I think so," he said excitedly. "We can upload them today. I think you'll like them."

"I'm sure I will," she agreed. Warmth filled her smile.

In a way, she reminded me of Mrs. Jaeger. It was mostly her appearance, but they shared a similar kind of love for their sons: beautifully soft, but somehow structured, too, like there was a solid foundation of toughness beneath all of that sweet honey. Mrs. Jaeger's toughness showed through more than Ms. Espinosa's, but having kids like Derek and Eren were probably the cause of that.

Not that Derek was such a problem child (and not that Eren wasn't), but I knew that he could be emotionally unstable in a way worse than Eren. At least Eren's anger was manageable and easy to identify; Derek's anger seemed to come out of nowhere, and it was much scarier than his little brother's.

Thinking about all of this made me feel kind of...lonely, in a way. I never thought about my own family this much. But it was ridiculous to insinuate that my home life was unhappy, because my parents were near-perfect, and my grandpa was the best man ever to live, and my cousin was all I ever needed when it came to siblings. And even if I was unhappy (which I wasn't), I was an honorary member of both the Ackerman and Jaeger households. There was no legitimate reason for me to be upset.

The more time I spent with Marco's family, the more I liked them. At around lunchtime, Marco and I invited everyone- Eren, Mikasa, Sasha, Conny, Jean, and Mrs. Kirschtein- over.

Eren must have sensed the likeness in Ms. Espinosa to his own mother, because he treated her with a special respect and service. Mason, it seemed, had an instant crush on Sasha, who talked and joked with him and Conny the entire time. Occasionally, Jean would butt in. Mason treated him as though he were as much flesh-and-blood as Marco was, hugging him on sight, asking him how the trip was and about his black eye, etc.

As a matter of fact, all of Marco's family treated him this way. Marie teased Jean, ruffling his hair when he took her too seriously. Ms. Espinosa, after hugging him tightly, scolded him once she found out he'd fought with Eren, and then got to work on further patching up his cuts and replacing his worn band-aids. Mason and Marie called Mrs. Kirschtein "Miss Cheryl", and Jean called Ms. Espinosa "Mom" (strangely enough, Mrs. Kirschtein never reacted to this). It was an interesting sight, and pleasing to see.

So we spent the day there. I mostly hung out with Marco, marveling with him and his mom over his photos, all of which had actually turned out very nicely. He and Jean eventually got around to showing Eren, Mikasa, and me the "tree thing" (a platform in Marco's backyard with a removable hood, a food stash, and sufficient coverage for hiding from the world), and I was introduced to Marco's dog, a black Labrador named Greg who was as friendly as his owners.

At around 1:30, once we'd eaten lunch, Sasha came up to me.

"I think it's time to go," she said. She sounded sad about it.

"I agree. We leave in...what do you say, an hour?"

"I'd say more like thirty minutes. We just have to get our luggage, say our good-byes. Then we're off. Cousin Travis is expecting us by tomorrow morning. I probably should've mentioned that earlier, and I'm sorry, but it's a fact."

"Alright," I said, forgiving easily. "Let's get going."

I told Mikasa and Eren; Sasha told Conny, Jean, and Marco.

We said our good-byes to the Espinosa-Bodt family and Jean's mother. Both moms prayed over us, and then hugged us tightly, thanking us before we left. Mason and I shook hands, and Marie tousled my hair.

"Be safe," they told us, and the door closed.

Jean and Marco lead us down to Jean's house. We loaded our luggage, saying our good-byes while we did it.

And, for the last time, I found myself accidentally eavesdropping on Jean.

"So you're leaving?"

"Obviously, dummy." Sasha's voice. She chuckled.

"You know-" Jean cursed. "I'm gonna freakin' miss you, you know that? You're practically a stranger, and I-"

There was a small, smacking sound.

I think my lower jaw dislocated.

"You-"

"You're the cutest," Sasha said. A smile was in her words. "And I think I like you. And I think you feel the same way."

There was silence. I knew I was supposed to be moving my bags, but to be honest, I couldn't stop myself.

"You..." Jean mumbled something that sounded along the lines of "...would be right."

All I could think was _that was fast. _

"Armin!" I jumped. The conversation stopped. Darn it.

Eren clapped me on the back. "Get a move on, man. This is the one deadline we have to meet, and I'm not screwing it up."

"R-right," I said. Jean came around from the back of the house, his ears bright pink.

"Armin, were you lis-"

"Oh no, we're late!" I exclaimed, walking as quickly as possible back inside.

"Armin! You little shi-"

"You're a cute couple!" I called, starting to jog. I slammed the front door behind me and locked it, breathing heavily.

Hmm. Jean and Sasha.

That really was fast.

* * *

I finished loading up a few minutes before we left. Sasha and Conny were still loading, and Eren and Mikasa were double-checking what we had in the van.

So it was just Jean, Marco, and me on the couch in the living room, arms folded. I'd already paid for my crimes against Jean's privacy, as my mussed hair and sore scalp showed.

"You know," Jean said to me, "you're a real pansy, Armin. I pulled my punch back in New Mexico, and your nose still bled."

"Oh, whatever," Marco said incredulously. "Why would you pull your punch? You were going for Eren."

"Well, for a split second, I _knew _Armin was in the way. I tried to stop myself. The punch was pulled."

Marco started to say something, but I stopped him.

"No, he's right," I admitted. "I'm a wimp."

"But you're also not a wimp," Marco argued, "because the only reason you got hurt was because you were trying to protect both of them."

"He's still a weakling," Jean argued. "All that says is that he's selfless."

_Weakling, _I thought to myself. I could definitely see it.

_Selfless. _

"Selflessness requires another kind of strength, though, doesn't it?" Marco countered.

_Selflessness is strength._

Surprisingly enough, I could see it.

"We're ready to go, Ar." Eren peered out from the front door.

"Okay," I answered. The three of us rose, headed outside. The day was warm, not as hot as the day before, and it was beautiful outside. A light sort of happiness buzzed in my arms and feet as I loaded into the van.

I was...strong.

"Good luck with...stuff," Jean said.

"We'll see you guys again someday," promised Marco.

"You!" called Sasha, pointing at Jean.

"What?" he asked gruffly.

"Call me, dork! I'm coming back when I get the money!"

"Oh yeah? Well maybe I'll get to you first!"

We were silent, the situation suddenly dawning on everyone else.

"Jean!" Eren shouted. I couldn't tell whether he was going to say something rude or thoughtful; his sunglasses completely obscured his eyes from sight.

"What now, Jaeger?" Jean answered, exasperated.

Eren put his fingers up in the 'OK' sign. I sighed in relief.

"Nice," he said.

"Whatever."

"But also f*ck you."*****

Jean dutifully flipped both of his middle fingers at Eren, who laughed loudly and did the same. We began to pull away from the curb.

"Thanks for everything!" Marco shouted after us.

It could have been my imagination, but I thought he was looking directly at me when he said it.

* * *

_Day 5_

_Has it really only been five days? I feel like it's been longer._

_So Marco woke me early this morning. We had an early morning adventure. I don't know if he purposely did this to maybe mirror our first real conversation, or if he simply enjoys early morning adventures, but we had a great time. I told him about my first kiss, we talked about the true meaning of genius, and he bought a whole box of chocolate doughnuts for me because I helped him emotionally. Then he ate half of the box._

_I met his family, and I guess I'll just continually be meeting incredible people on this trip, because Marco's family is really something. And I suppose that includes Jean and Mrs. Kirschtein._

_But more importantly, I've made another discovery in my "journey of psychological healing"._

_Who am I? That's my question. I have the first few fragments of an answer, and this fact excites me._

_Firstly: I am a genius, an intellectual genius. That is my gift, what makes me special._

_Secondly: I am weak._

_This I've known for the longest time, of course, and it's weighed me down as long as I've known it._

_But thirdly: I am selfless, and therefore I am strong._

_Maybe I didn't want to believe it when Eren first told me so. I think I was caught up in all of my other weaknesses; I couldn't give myself credit for that one thing, simply because I was occupied with accusing myself as a whole for the various other things I fail in._

_I may be helpless, and I may be a burden, but I am strong in at least one way. _

_For now, that's enough._

_I'm going to miss Jean and Marco, but that didn't have to be the last time we see them. We could even visit once we drop off Sasha and Conny. _

_You know something? We could definitely do that. I want to do that. I feel like we've just made one of those rare friendships, a bond few can claim to have found, and that we need to strengthen it. We're going back to Trost once we get to New Orleans. That's what I want to do._

_Mikasa's driving now, which probably isn't the best idea considering we'll need her to be driving tonight. I drive much too cautiously to get us to New Orleans on time, but the only other option is to let Eren drive us. At night time._

_We may actually have to do that._

_I'm suddenly very glad that Mrs. Kirchstein and Ms. Espinosa prayed over us._

_But for now, future plans and worries aside, I just want to think. _

_We're driving across a state that can be its own country, and it's going to be a while._

_I'm going to think, and then I'm going to sleep. _

_More later._

* * *

***For the sake of my conscience, but also the characters' personalities, let's censor some words. If it bothers you, just think that (at least in this universe), Armin refuses to swear, and censors words in his narrative. (I once read a book where an intelligent young girl was the narrator/main character, and she censored EVERYTHING. Like, there was no f*ck. It was FOXGLOVE, and for a moment, I was very confused.)**

* * *

**A/N: After several weeks of stressing, finals, and guilt about not posting sooner, I finally update, just in time for Christmas, with two chapters.**

**I was originally going to make this one big chapter, but I realized that when Armin goes to sleep, there was a perfect breakoff point where the reader could just digest what they'd just read before hopping along to the next main idea.**

**Things may seem a little iffy in this chapter, and that's a result of uninspired, rushed writing over a long period of time. I had a lot of ideas for Jean and Marco's last chapter, but not enough room or time to put them all in (as I felt that people were getting restless, for some reason, and that thought whipped me forward). The Early Morning Adventure, for example, was supposed to have a lot more coverage in it, more closure, but somehow it just ended up the way it did, and it flowed so smoothly into the next scene and from the last one that I just said, "Oh, I did a semi-decent job there", and I REALLY didn't want to waste the time or energy writing something better, especially since I had the entire rest of the chapter written after it, and redoing the first scene most likely meant redoing the entire chapter.**

**Also, I'm afraid I'm super repetitive with certain phrases and words and actions (like why the heck is everyone always laughing or giggling or chuckling), but a thesaurus has not helped me in this case, because I just get irrelevant semi-synonyms that don't properly convey what I want the characters to do.**

**I also wanted more development on Jean and Sasha's relationship. Tbh, I only added it to see how I wrote this ship, but I also think that in Jean's little window of character development (more like analyzation), Sasha's an important subject to show a softer side of Jean. Of course, Marco would be a perfect candidate for this role, but Jean feels no need to be soft to Marco, as he's basically his brother. When you've got a sibling, especially one your age or older, you spend too much time around them to even consider turning soft for them. You'd wear yourself out.**

**Well, yeah, anyway. We only caught glimpses of Jean and Sasha (after their little argument), but it's implied that Jean began to keep her and Conny company. Due to the fact that this is from Armin's perspective, I felt that not only would he not get as much from eavesdropping as we would hope, but he would and should be caught and punished for the invasion of Jean's privacy. Just being realistic.**

**Um. With Mrs. Kirschtein and names, I honestly have no idea what I was thinking. Don't ask why that part exists. It just does. This month's been weird for me, writing-wise.**

**And ah yes, I can't wait to begin with the Eremika issues. Issues in a couple are much more interesting to write than their happy-go-lucky phase. And, in case you're wondering, Eren is a kind of not-ish virgin (like, he's semi-deeply fooled around but never actually ****_done it_****), and he and Mikasa haven't had sex. It was awkward writing Armin's concerns in that area, it really was, but I think it's an important area for him to be concerned about concerning his best friends' relationship.**

**I deeply apologize for the vast exclusion of organization in Armin's thought process. I tend to write characters based on their MBTI, and Armin's easy to write because we're only a letter away from one another (He's an INTP to boot; I'm a hardcore INFP), but I think I overdo the P factor in this case (like a typical INFP would, I guess). Like, organization is NOT my thing. At all.**

**So that's it. Expect nothing from me, and I will probably attack you with hugs because good lord so many people like this across the board and I'm crying because I work hard on this story.**

**Please review, and thank you for all of your support!**


	7. The All-Nighter, Part 1: Opening Up

**Icarus &amp; I**

**Chapter 7**

**The All-Nighter, Part 1: Opening Up**

* * *

**We sampled some of Sasha's sandwiches for dinner.**

She'd made various kinds- tuna salad, egg salad, peanut butter and jelly, etc. The ingredients being straight from Mrs. Kirschtein's kitchen, I was unsurprised by how incredible the sandwiches tasted. Nevertheless, just based upon the perfect way they were sliced and the pleasing proportions, I guessed that at least half of their deliciousness was born of Sasha's own cooking skills.

They were sparse, however. I was only able to eat one and a half before they were gone completely, and I blamed both Eren and Sasha, who'd been scarfing down one after the other since they'd been served, for my empty stomach. Conny empathetically offered Mikasa and I some snacks he'd kept in his backpack, and we accepted gratefully. When Sasha asked where her share was, we collectively ignored her. I felt guilty doing it, but food is food.

Anyway, things more or less went back to their usual rhythm. Mikasa drove, Eren played his music, I took pictures and wrote in my journal and generally attempted to entertain myself. I ended up missing Marco and Jean more than I'd predicted I would. Whenever I had a funny or interesting idea to share, I would turn, but Marco wouldn't be there to listen. Eren occasionally woke from his nap and argued about music again, but every time I expected Jean to reply heatedly, Sasha's voice came instead, and she fought for country music rather than alternative. I found myself hoping time would pass quickly, so that we'd be back on our way to Trost already.

Still, I had Conny to talk to, and he loved to talk. As a matter of fact, I was confused by how much I enjoyed our conversations. Usually, talkative people annoy me to a certain degree. I often find myself ignoring or patronizing such people more often than not.

I guessed that Conny was different, as I found him, and what he talked about, interesting. There was a lot about him that I didn't understand or couldn't quite sympathize with, so I suppose I seeked to change that fact.

For one thing, his family situation baffled me. Having so many siblings, and all of them being the same gender- I couldn't even imagine what it must have been like.

Fortunately, Conny spared me no detail. To paraphrase, it was different, but it overall wasn't an ideal situation.

"Do you wanna know what my real name is?" he asked, an edge to his voice. He'd been ranting about how far from _ideal_ the situation really was for the past half-hour.

"Sure?" I answered uncertainly.

"It's _Constance,_" he spat. "You know why? 'Cause when my mom was pregnant with me, they were so sure I was gonna be a girl, they named me that before they even checked the gender. But when I turned out to be- you know- _not _a girl, they went for Connor. Problem with that was that they couldn't. Stop. Calling. Me. Constance. And they just effing _named_ me that!"

"Oh," I said.

"'Oh' is right. You know what's worse? They were always trying to make me wear my sisters' hand-me-downs when they thought it wasn't obvious that they were girl's clothes. But guess what? It was always obvious! I had, like, zero friends in grade school, because kids made fun of me so much. Middle school was better, since I had _some _friends. And then Sasha came along in eighth grade, and-"

He leaned closer to me, checking to make sure that no one was eavesdropping.

"-don't tell her I said this, but Sasha basically saved my life. Like, she was my first best friend. Ever. I was that one kid who sticks in the group because he has nowhere else to go, who just kind of tags along everywhere, but Sasha kind of gave me an identity in my school. Even to myself. It was really lonely before she moved to Ragako."

I felt myself smile. "It's really lucky that she moved, then, huh?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. I don't really like to think about what life would have been like if she hadn't. It gets, like, confusing."

"Confusing?" That wasn't the word I'd anticipated.

"Well, yeah. Like, it hurts my head. Kind of like those alternate timeline kind of shows. It's like, why even bother?" He scrunched his features as he talked. I didn't mention that those kinds of shows were usually some of my favorites.

"I see what you mean," is what I decided to say instead. Conny seemed like a simple guy. I supposed that complex plots and so forth weren't necessarily up his alley.

"Yeah, so you get it. Anyway, I have her now. To me, that's what's important."

I studied how he looked away as he said it, the slightest of frowns flashing across his face.

As he quickly continued on to other topics, I thought that simplicity suited Conny in a way that it couldn't fit most people, and I took a second to admire that quality before tuning my ears back into the rest of his monologue. The sun went down soon enough.

* * *

Sasha busied herself by texting people. And by _people, _I mean Jean. Probably exclusively. We were only aware of this information because she shared it with us. Constantly.

"Jean says you're the biggest dick he's ever met," she said to Eren, who'd just woken up for what he claimed was the final time. I assumed she'd left out part of the joke, since what she'd shared didn't seem funny enough to share at all.

Eren, who was still a little drowsy, smirked. "Tell him eight inches."

I felt my face flush. Sasha clapped a hand over her gaping mouth and began to text again. Conny snorted so hard I had to hand him a tissue. The van jerked, signaling Mikasa's distress.

"You get _one more chance_," she spat.

Eren laughed. "Oh, come on, Miks. It was just a joke."

"Well, Eren, I didn't find it all that funny."

"Why not? Sasha and Conny did."

"I'm not Sasha and Conny. Please quit it with these kinds of jokes."

"Why? You've never had a problem with them before."

"Things change. Just stop."

"Fine. Sorry."

As silence ensued, my phone buzzed. It was Eren, as I'd anticipated.

Him: What was that?

Me: I don't know. She sounded like she did the other night.

Him: She did. Do you think I embarrassed her?

Me: Probably.

Him: Crap. What should I do?

Me: Don't act just yet. Let her simmer down, and then, when you get the chance to be alone with her, formally apologize. She'll blow it off, but it'll mean a lot to her.

Him: Alright. But I'm confused.

Me: About what?  
Him: How did I embarrass her?

Me: Do you really want to know?

Him: Of course.

I paused, debating whether I should tell him. In the end, I decided that educating Eren in the art of sensitivity was well worth the possible awkwardness of my answer.

Me: Okay. Remember when Jean gave you guys permission?

Him: Uh, yeah? What does that have to do with this?

Me: Sex jokes. She gets upset about sex jokes.

Him: ?

Me: You two are a couple now. There's the possibility of you two having sex. I mean, there always was, but now it's…..well, _expected_.

Him: But I was just joking. What I said has nothing to do with us as a couple.

Me: Let me put this in perspective. Imagine if Mikasa started joking about, I don't know, her breasts, or sex in general.

Him:

Him: Oh my god, Armin.

Me: Now imagine that you have Mikasa's mind, and you think about things. A lot.

Him: OH MY GOD ARMIN

Me: See?

Him: But what should I do? To keep this from happening again with, like, other stuff.

Me: That's simple. Just red-flag certain topics you know make her uncomfortable, and don't bring them up when she's around.

Him: But what should I red-flag?

Me: Are you serious?

Him: Yes?

Me: You don't know what makes her uncomfortable?

Him: Just things that are obviously photoshopped and forcing her to do things. That's literally it.

Me: Nothing else?

Him: Sex jokes?

Me: Okay. What makes me uncomfortable?

Him: Why?

Me: Just answer.

Him: Alright. Convenience store milk, online chatrooms, strangers brushing against you, swimming in public, metal against ceramic, incorrect grammar and pronunciation and spelling, giant crowds, eating raw cookie dough, when my parents get angry, zit-popping videos, locker rooms, and some other stuff I can't think of right now.

Me: And how long have you known me?

Him: Kindergarten.

Me: And how long have you known Mikasa?

Him: Diapers.

Me: And you don't know what makes her uncomfortable?

Him: Why are you so insistent on this?

Eren was beginning to annoy me.

Me: How can you not know what makes her uncomfortable?

Him: Dude. She never reacts to ANYTHING. If she doesn't like something, she just leaves. And sometimes, she just leaves because she wants to. How am I supposed to know the difference?

Me: Just pay attention to her.

Him: I already pay enough attention!

Me: You know, she goes out of her way to make sure that you have what you need. She's done that since I've known her, and she's never taken a break. Why don't you return the favor, for once in your life?

Him:Why did I even ask you? I should have known you'd just lecture me.

Me: Why DID you ask me? So I could sit back and tell you you're right?

"What the hell, Armin? You know that's not true."

"What's not true?" Mikasa asked.

I sighed. Now she was aware of our conversation. Thanks, Eren.

"If it's not true, then why'd you ask for my help?" I challenged. "It certainly wasn't to hear what I had to say."

He glared at me from the front seat. "Look. I'm glad you gave me advice, because I needed it. But I'm not gonna tolerate you preaching to me, or telling me that I don't pay enough attention to her."

"But you don't!" I objected. The van came to a stop. I noticed that both Sasha and Conny had their earphones in.

Mikasa turned around and stared me down, her eyes flashing.

"What did you say to him?" she asked me.

I took a deep breath, both to avoid getting angry and to clear my head.

"I told him he doesn't pay enough attention to you. And he doesn't. He could name a whole list of things I'm uncomfortable with, but he could only name a few things that you can't stand."

"It's BS," Eren told her. "I totally give you enough attention."

There was a pause. Mikasa hesitated.

"Don't I?" Eren added with less confidence.

This was unfair to her; I shouldn't have put her on the spot like this. I began to regret ever even bringing the subject up. More importantly, I began to hope I was wrong.

Mikasa's lips parted, but no words came out. She glanced from me to Eren and back again, looking as though she couldn't find the words she needed to, like we had them somehow.

Eren grabbed her chin and kissed her. She seemed about as startled as I felt.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'd- I'd never thought about it. I screwed up. I'm so sorry, Miks."

"Don't be," she replied, averting her eyes. "There's nothing to be sorry about. I'm fine."

He insisted,"You're not fine. I'm a dumbass, and that's it."

"Watch your language," she murmured.

Eren scoffed. "My lang- Mikasa, I'm sucking at being your boyfriend, and you want to scold me for my _language_? You can't express a frickton of sensitivity to something, and then just treat it like it means nothing!"

"Eren, honestly. I'm fine. I'll try to be more tolerant of your cruder jokes."

"But does it bother you?"

"Yes, but-"

"Then I'll stop!"

"There's no need to-"

"Mikasa, do you even know what it means to be in a relationship?"

"Of course I-"

"It's a deal. A partnership. A compromise. Every relationship I've ever been in has ended because someone was being selfish. I'm not going to let this scale tip this time. When you're dating someone, you're supposed to open up and talk to them. So open your mouth and _talk to me._"

The van jerked forward, causing my head to slam into the headrest.

"I'm driving. It's dark. Don't talk to me."

"But-"

"I'm _driving_."

My phone buzzed again.

Him: I'm sorry and help.

Me: It's okay, and just let this one lie for now. She'll get over it.

Him: I suck.

Me: You don't.

Him: Just now I sucked.

Me: Not even just now.

Him: A minute ago, I sucked.

Me: You did.

Me: But I'm still your best friend.

Me: And she still loves you.

Me: It'll be okay.

He turned back and offered a worn smile.

Him: I hope so.

* * *

The air wasn't too tense in the van, since Sasha and Conny kept Eren and I entertained. They offered up their best jokes and funniest memories, and when they ran out, we returned the favor, though neither Eren's nor my jokes were all that great in comparison to theirs. As a last resort, Sasha asked Jean for some of his best. That affair was, needless to say, a disgrace to the Jaegermobile.

"What's the difference between an elephant and a bad student?" Sasha read.

"What." Eren, Conny, and I all replied in monotonous unison.

"One rarely bites, the other barely writes."

Tortured laughter ensued.

"Want to hear another one?" asked Sasha.

"More, _please," _Conny droned.

She ignored his tone and did as she was, technically, asked.

"Get this. Deja Moo: the feeling you've heard this bull before."

"I'm getting serious Deja Moo right now," Eren said. We all laughed again, this time with actual feeling. Eren wasn't a guy known for his incredible humor, but it was refreshing to finally hear an actual joke after ten whole minutes of surviving on Jean's.

"What's up with your boyfriend and large mammals, anyway?" asked Conny.

"His name is _Jean_, I don't really know if he counts as my boyfriend, and it's probably because of where he lives. Like, Texas is known for longhorns and cows and stuff." Sasha shrugged.

"You said you kissed him, right? And you guys said you like each other and blah blah blah. He's your boyfriend."

"I guess when you put it like that….."

"Yeah. Anyway, when are we stopping?"

"Right now, actually," I answered. We were driving into the gas station. "Everyone knows what to get?"

"Gas," said Eren.

"Snacks," answered Sasha.

"Red Bull and/or Monster," said Conny.

"Mikasa'll get the snacks, and-"

"Armin is President of the United Coffee of the Jaegermobile," Conny interrupted.

"Right," I said. "I'm that."

Mikasa pulled up next to the pump, promptly turning off the car and heading to the shop without a glance at any of us. Conny and Sasha were right on her tail, each complaining to the other about how badly they had to pee.

Once they were all out of earshot, I took a seat on the side of the van's hood, watching Eren get the gas pumped.

"She's still mad," he sighed after a short period of silence.

"She'll get over it," I assured him. "And when she does, she'll be ready to open up to you. It'll be good both for you guys as a couple, and for her as a person."

"Thanks," he said. "I just don't get why she can't talk to me."

"You know as well as I do that Mikasa has a complicated idea about using her words."

"Well, yeah, but- like- we're _together _now. Like, I've always tried to be there for her, but she's been made, like, an official priority to me now. We're supposed to be working on staying in love, bringing out the best in each other. That's what dating is, right? I- I just thought she'd be…...different. I don't know."

I stared at my nails, bitten down to their beds, and my cuticles, chewed off to the point where they stung. "All I can tell you is that no one can force Mikasa to do anything, which you already know. You can't demand things of her and expect to get what you're asking for. Instead, you have to coax things out of her, reason with her calmly. I know that you can do that."

"I can," he said. "But, Armin, what if I just end up freaking her out?"

He looked me in the eye when he asked it. Under the pale lights of the station, he looked much older than he was, like an adult rather than a kid. Yet the panic in his face felt like that of a clueless child.

If I had to describe Eren in one word, it would be _caring. _I've never known anyone in my entire life who cares as much as he does. He may seem like a laid-back goofball, but in actuality, he's so passionate about so many things that I fear it will tear him apart one day.

You shouldn't invest yourself too deeply into anything. If you do, and that thing goes to pieces, you will, too. But that's how Eren works, especially with the people closest to him. It's to the point where the slightest screw-up in a relationship of any kind will stress him out, if he acknowledges it as his own fault.

Essentially, Eren cares too much. This felt like his and Mikasa's first real conflict as a couple, and it was beginning to eat at him.

I wanted to do something- give him a hug, tousle his hair, _something- _to help him feel better. But with the exception of with Mikasa, physical affection was rare for me, and I didn't want to make Eren uncomfortable. In the end, all I could offer was my words.

"I'm sure it will work out," I told him.

"I really hope so," he replied. "I don't think anyone knows how much I love her."

I tried to hide my smile. At times, being Eren's best friend was the most annoying thing I could imagine. But there were other times where it was immensely rewarding. This moment, watching him put away the gas pump and hearing his softer side show through, was one of those times.

After all, you can't really like or understand Eren Jaeger until you get an idea of how massive his heart is.

* * *

When I entered the shop, Mikasa and Conny were already leaving, their arms full of snacks and drinks. Mikasa snuck a glance at me when she thought I couldn't see her. She looked almost apologetic.

I hoped that was a good omen for what was to come.

* * *

It turned out to be neither a good nor bad omen. When we piled back into the van, things remained the same, besides the fact that Eren had taken the wheel. He and Sasha, the only two not-sleepy and not-cautious drivers present, would switch off periodically to keep anyone from losing their stamina (and, more importantly, to cut our chances of driving into a telephone pole by fifty percent).

The possibly positive signs available for me to interpret concerning Eren and Mikasa's issue were that she'd willingly taken the passenger's seat next to him and that she was still wearing his hoodie.

The possibly negative signs were pretty much everything that had indicated an undesirable situation in the first place.

I couldn't tell if Eren had picked up on these signs, but he did try to be tactful about his approach, and I was proud of his effort. I only hoped that he would have the sense to wait until we'd stopped again, or until everyone else was asleep.

Unfortunately, Eren's tact only goes so far. He's an impatient person, especially with his emotions.

"Miks," he said softly. Sasha and Conny took their cue to block us out.

Mikasa ignored him.

"Mikasa."

"_What_, Eren?"

She was over-enunciating. _That _was a bad sign. The air thickened in the van once again.

Eren was silent for a moment. I silently applauded him. It wasn't that I hadn't believed him before, but actually seeing him put in such an effort to make nice was almost moving, in a sense. This was _really _important to him.

"Do you want to play your music?" he finally asked.

This was the right choice.

Her expression flickered- from surprised to soft to smiling.

"Yes. Thanks." She replaced Eren's iPod with her own in the audio jack, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek.

He tried to be funny and turned his face so her lips met his, and it would have been cute, had the car not jerked off the road and my soul not have been lifted from my body.

"Ugh, my teeth."

"Uh, sorry. Sorry, guys."

"_How_ are we going to survive tonight?" Conny asked, shaken.

"Armin?' asked Sasha. "Are you okay?"

"Did you _kill Armin?!_" Conny yelled.

"We're done," said Mikasa. "I can't continue knowing that our relationship murdered our best friend."

"You're so not funny. Armin, you chill? You a'ight? You Gucci?"

"You just said that," I replied flatly. Eren laughed, and I felt the van trudge back up to the road.

As things rushed back to their usual hum, I thought about how Eren had solved the problem- or, rather, how he hadn't. It was a little odd, seeing him so unconfrontational, but it made sense.

Basically, in avoiding continuing the argument, Eren had chosen peace over resolution. I honestly doubted that any more fighting would have been good, but there had to have been some way to continue his pursual without making Mikasa more uncomfortable.

Still, I supposed he'd made the right decision. And, I reminded myself, it _was_ his decision to make.

* * *

**A/N: I have a valid excuse.**

**So I usually write my chapters in my word processor, Open Office. But I shut down my computer when my chapter was done without closing or saving it (due to some urgent circumstances), thinking it would just recover the documents later, like good ol' Word would. But NO. I opened the file, recovered it, and EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING. WAS A MOTHER. FRICKING. #. **

**A WHOLE MONTH OF WORK WAS TURNED INTO ###############. PAGES AND PAGES. **

**I looked it up to see what was up, what to do, etc. Turns out, it's a screw-up that no one knows how to fix. So I cried (I HAD TWO. CHAPTERS. WRITTEN) and procrastinated in re-writing, because ew I hate re-creating things, especially from memory. So here I am, skipping homework because I'm inspired and guilty, wishing I had a chocolate donut instead of motherfricking black licorice. **

**Anyway, I know I promised you Sasha and Conny as prominent characters. BUT. I'm a piece of crap, so I procrastinated their development. There're hints dropping at where their main conflict will be, but unfortunately, nothing too deep. Let's be honest- Jean and Marco are special angels of character dynamic and interest. Sasha and Conny are hilarious and relatable and absolutely boss, but…. Hajime Isayama gives me little to work on with these two as characters. Its especially hard to balance with the EreMika issues, which need so desperately to be introduced, overshadowing them. **

**And don't even get me started on their relatability to Armin.**

**See, Jean was similar to Eren. To Armin, he was a familiar person. Connection inevitable.**

**Marco was kind and bright and relatable and wanted very much to be Armin's friend. Connection established immediately.**

**Sasha and Conny don't have much to go on. If anything, Sasha's more prone to hang around Eren than she is Armin, and while, as it was stated, Armin finds Conny so different that he's intriguing, their mindsets and backgrounds are so different that it would take- ok, nevermind. I have an idea.**

**These Author's Note things are suppose to be for you guys, but I totally need them to sort out my frazzled, naive little thinker.**

**All in all, thanks so much for all of your support and how consistent you guys are with feedback. I really hope this chapter was worth the wait (insert doubtful side glance). I really appreciate y'all's patience and your interpretations of the story so far. You don't understand what a toilet bowl this story would be without your responses; they really, really help me.**

**Finally, because I'm a music-obsessed nerd, I made a mix for this. Hehe. Enjoy, I guess:**

/blubick/icarus-i

**You guys are literally my inspiration. I really hope you enjoy the next chapter, which should come up pretty soon.**


	8. The All-Nighter, Part 2: The Hot Seat

**Icarus &amp; I**

**Chapter 8**

**The All-Nighter Part 2: The Hot Seat**

* * *

**PIQ (Passenger in Question) 1- Eren**

"AND OUR FIRST GUEST ON THE HOT SEAT."

"Wait, we're playing this game?"

"ERREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE"

"-did I not say I didn't want to play-"

"EEEEENNNNNNNNN JAAAAAAAEEEEEEEEGERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!"

"Holy poop Sasha, keep it down!"

"Please."

"Sorry. Anyway-"

"I don't want to play."

"Irrelevant. Anyway-"

"It's kind of completely relevant."

"Oh, come on! It's fun."

"It really is. Some of our best stories come from when we played this game with people that picked us up."

"What even are the rules?"

"Oh, yeah. Rules. Um, first of all, you usually go oldest to youngest whenever there's turns involved."

"So who's oldest?"

"Armin?"

"Me? I doubt it."

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen. I skipped a grade."

"I'm honestly not surprised. Okay then, Eren?"

"Nope. Mikasa's got a month's head start on me."

"When's your birth month, Mikasa?"

"February."

"And you're eighteen, right?"

"Yes."

"Mikasa's the oldest, then."

"Then why are you questioning me first?"

"Your answers are probably going to be more fun. Helps build the mood up, y'know?"

"I guess?"

"So if Eren's born in March, that puts him right after Mikasa. And I already know that Conny's older than me. So it's Mikasa, Eren, Conny, me, then Armin."

"Any other rules?"

"Yeah. Each person only gets one question to ask to each 'guest'. The guest gets one veto. Otherwise, all questions MUST be answered. Compound questions are allowed, but if it becomes a run-on sentence, it doesn't count. That's it, I think."

"Um, the person driving shouldn't be on the hot seat. Can we agree on that?"

"Does this excuse me?"

"You're an exception."

"He really shouldn't be."

"Whoa. Can I ask why?"

"It's dark, we're all generally new to driving, and you have a tendency to endanger people. Simple."

"Just for that, I'm gonna remain the exception."

"Mikasa, please tell him."

"Give him some responsibility. He'll never learn if he never tries."

"I don't like it, but you have a point."

"Since when are you two my parents?"

"Since always."

"So Eren's the exception. To, like, everything. That's covered. We ready to start?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Mikasa's first."

"Alright. What should I ask?"

"I dunno. I can't suggest a question, can I?"

"Nope. And...why would you?"

"We've known each other for so long, it's hard to come up with a legitimate question."

"Then ask him why he likes you."

"Is nothing private?"

"Look, he's blushing! This is cute. Ask him."

"But I think I already know."

"But do you KNOW you know?"

"Well...no."

"Then ask!"

"Armin?"

"Do we have any popcorn?"

"Big help."

"I try."

"Ugh."

"This is juvenile."

"That's what makes it fun. Just ask him."

"Fine. Why do you like me, Eren?"

"Do you want the short answer or the long one?"

"Honestly, I think it's up to them."

"Long one."

"No one asked you, Armin."

"You might as well have."

"Whatever, you prick."

"Flattery will get you nowhere."

"Answer already."

"Fine. Long answer. Uh...well, uh, first of all, you're kind of gor- this is weird, and I don't know why. Okay. Okay. You're really pretty. That's an understatement. Whatever. Uh, you're also, like, my best friend. Like even more than Armin. Sorry, man."

"Nothing to apologize for."

"Good. But you, like, know me as well as I know myself. Even better, maybe. Um, you're always there for me, no matter what. And you're really noble and just generally good. Like, admirable, I guess. Super admirable. And I think it's really cute when you don't know what to do, especially since you almost always know what to do. I like seeing you out of your element. Maybe it's because I feel like we're on equal ground. I don't know. But you're kind of incredible and amazing, and the fact that you put so much of that into helping me out makes me feel really grateful, and I get all warm and fuzzy and stupidly mushy about it okay can we stop here because, like, I'm suffocating Armin why did you do this to me are we done."

"That. Was so. Beautiful."

"I'm surprised we never swerved that entire time. Nice one, Eren."

"Miks?"

"You're my favorite."

"Good, you can still talk. Ar?"

"All I can think is 'where's MY Eren Jaeger?'"

"Hey, I'm open to a three-way relationship."

"Same."

"Great! Imagine all the money we'll save on hotel rooms now. Just one problem: who sleeps in the middle?"

"Mikasa's the smallest."

"But Eren wakes the latest."

"But Armin's the best at cuddling."

"I can't tell where the joke stopped."

"Sorry. Who's turn was it?"

"Conny's."

"Okay."

"Did you give Jean his black eye?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"One question per turn, right?"

"Dang."

"Sasha, go."

"How do you know that Armin's a good cuddler?"

"You see, Ar and I have reached a level of mastery in the art of bromance. Back when he was just a baby bird, which wasn't too long ago, we would stay up late watching Boomerang and eating ice cream, sitting close together for moral support during the scary parts of Teen Titans. We discovered his incredible cuddling ability once he told me he couldn't breathe because I was holding him so tightly because he was just so lovable. Oddly enough, he hasn't hugged me since."

"False story. I fell asleep on you, and then you crushed me when you got excited about the show. Besides that, I was, and still am, quite bony; I think I'd be a very uncomfortable person to cuddle with."

"We can test it. Conny."

"What...what are you doing."

"Hugging you, man. For science."

"How is your seatbelt still on?"

"Safety first."

"I don't like this."

"Armin can be real touchy about personal space. You might want to not."

"Please."

"Okay. Sorry. And Eren wasn't lying. You're pretty soft."

"Good to know?"

"Oh, calm down, Armin. You let Marco's entire family hug you. I saw them when we left."

"That was different. I anticipated it."

"We're getting way off track. Armin, it's your turn to ask."

"Oh. I have a good one."

"I'm scared."

"Eren, your mom told me about how you ate your boogers back in middle school, when Mikasa and I weren't around. Was she lying?"

"Obviously."

"Wait. Your ears are pink."

"What does that mean?"

"Eren blushes when he lies."

"..."

"Oh, come on! You guys know that means nothing."

"_Obviously."_

"_Obviously._"

"_Obviously._"

"Quit it."

"_Obviously_."

"_Obviously_."

"Shut up!"

"Eren, it was just revealed that you ate your boogers, and you're worried about us _mocking_ you?"

"Armin was doing a scary good job."

"Thanks! I try."

"Okay, we're off the subject."

"_Obviously._"

"Shut up."

"Despite how disgusted I am right now with Eren, I agree with him. We keep getting off track."

"Disgusted? But Miks-"

"Stop right now. This isn't arguable. It's gross. And it's my turn to be the guest, isn't it?"

"Sure."

"Mikasa, please-"

"I don't talk to people with booger breath. It's my turn."

* * *

**PIQ 2- Mikasa**

"ANDHEEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS MIKASAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA ACKERMAN!"

"Sasha, did I not say to keep it down?!"

"Sorry not sorry. Eren gets first turn. You may not veto a questioner."

"But I can veto his question."

"But don't."

"I'm guessing you want him to ask me why I like him."

"Yup."

"Why are you so interested in our relationship?"

"Because it's cute? Like, super cute?"

"It's a very cute relationship."

"Yeah."

"That's nice of you, I guess, but I don't really feel like answering."

"But I didn't even ask yet."

"Shut it, Booger Breath."

"Mikasa."

"What?"

"Do it for me."

"No."

"Please?"

"..."

"Please?"

"..."

"Do it for me, and because I love you."

"..."

"This isn't a fair fight. Look at those eyes."

"I know, right? He's got her wrapped around his finger."

"It's his secret weapon. If logic won't work, Armin always plays the Pathos card."

"..."

"Please?"

"...All of you are impossible."

"Thank you, Mikasa!"

"Whatever."

"Should I ask now, or what?"

"No, don't talk. Eren, I like you because you're genuinely invested in others' well-being, and because you care so much about your friends- about me- that you're always willing to go to drastic measures to make sure they're safe and happy. You have a great sense of humor, even if it is immature at times, and I love how persistent you are, and how you always follow your heart no matter what. Also, you're- well- you're _attractive_ to me, I guess. And you've always been there for me, even when I thought you were against me. That's it."

"Attractive, you say? You've never mentioned this before, Miks."

"Wipe that smirk off your face."

"Attractive how?"

"I said that's it. Next question."

"Attractive how?"

"Keep your eyes on the road."

"I am. Attractive how?"

"Armin?"

"It's rude to ignore people, Mikasa."

"You're terrible."

"Attractive how?"

"Shut up."

"Attractive how?"

"Stop it, Eren."

"_Mikasa._"

"...don't use that voice."

"_Babe_."

"..."

"_Miks. Tell me_."

"Oh my god, you obviously know."

"What do I know?"

"You're the worst."

"I'll stop the car."

"Stop using that voice."

"I'm slowing down."

"Not in front of Sasha and Conny and Armin."

"They've stopped listening."

"You're being rude."

"I'm the rude one?"

"Okay, fine. I...hold on. I can't look at you."

"You're cute."

"Be quiet. And stop using that voice. Okay. Okay. Your eyes are beautiful, and so is your face, and for a while I couldn't be too close to you because I thought too much about how gorgeous you are and I would get nervous. That's it. Stop pestering me. Start driving again."

"One more thing. What's wrong with my voice?"

"You know when you get all..._husky_ like that, I...never mind. You've asked more than your limit."

"Husky?"

"Stop it. I don't like this. Drive."

"Only if you kiss me."

"I don't kiss guys who eat their boogers. Drive, _now_."

"Ow! Jeez, okay. Sorry."

"Are you two done?"

"Yes. Sorry about all that. Eren has zero self-control."

"A scientific fact."

"Hard to control myself around someone like you."

"I'm suffocating."

"I'm CPR certified. How does mouth-to-mouth sound?"

"I'm suffocating in cheese. Eren, stop."

"Alright, alright. You're just really cute right now."

"Sasha, for Pete's sakes, stop smiling so hard."

"They're just so cute. I ship it so hard."

"Why don't you go back to texting your boyfriend? Then you can actually live it instead of being all creepy and sighing over other people."

"He's not really my boyfriend? I think we covered this."

"You sure treat him like it."

"Do I detect a sour note, or is that my imagination?"

"Your imagination. Anyway, we're off track again."

"We really are. It's Sasha's turn for a question. Eren, save your flirting for later."

"Oh, I plan to."

"That literally made no sense, but whatever. Anyway, Mikasa, what career are you planning for? I'm just curious."

"Police work."

"I can totally see it."

"Same."

"Conny's turn."

"Why did Eren give Jean a black eye?"

"He hurt Armin."

"How? Why?"

"One question per turn."

"Ugh."

"We just put Sasha before Conny in turns, didn't we?"

"It's fine. Keep going; it's your turn."

"Right. So Mikasa, can you define 'husky' for me?"

"Veto. You're a jerk."

"Why are you so evil tonight, Armin?"

"I'm not evil. I'm just bored."

"So he's not always like this?"

"Usually, Armin's much better behaved."

"But yeah, God help you if he's bored."

"I'm not that bad."

"You are."

"Who's turn is it?"

"Conny's."

"Right."

* * *

**PIQ 3- Conny**

"ANNN-"

"SASHA. STOP. PLEASE. WE'RE IN A CAR."

"ARE WE REALLY?"

"YES. SO STOP."

"BUT CONNY. THIS IS MY INSIDE VOICE."

"SASHA, I SWEAR-"

"I'm getting a major head ache. Can you guys please quit it?"

"Yeah, Conny! Jeez. You're so loud sometimes."

"I just. That's it. I'm done. We are no longer friends. Don't talk to me. We're through."

"I can play this game, too. Anyway, Mikasa goes first."

"Why are you bald?"

"Black hair, man. A lot of my sisters got the Latina thing going on, but me and a few others got stuck with our dad's hair. Shaving's the easiest way to go."

"Eren."

"Why are you so short?"

"That's a little rude."

"No, it's cool. It's just in my genes, I guess. My gramma's pretty tiny, and so are some of my cousins."

"My turn. Why-"

"Veto, because we're currently not talking. Armin?"

"Um, what are you going to major in? I guess."

"Probably business. For now, though, once I get back home, I'm gonna work under my sister, Daisy, in the fast food place she's manager at."

"Ah."

"This one flew by pretty quickly."

"That's a good thing, though, right? We said we want to keep on track."

"Detours can be more fun than sticking with the program, though."

"Agreed."

"Yeah."

"And anyway, what's our hurry? The later we stay up, the better. It's hard to stay awake when everyone else is asleep, so I think it's better that we go off on tangents."

"It's not like we have to_ try _to get sidetracked, anyway."

"_Obviously_."

"WE ARE NOT BRINGING THIS BACK"

"_Obviously_."

"GAHHHHHGGGHH"

"_Obviously_."

"_Obviously."_

_"Obviously_."

"SASHAS TURN. SASHAS TURN NOW."

* * *

**PIQ 4- Sasha**

"I mean, obv-"

"NO MORE."

"Alright, let's let him take five."

"AND NOW."

"Sasha, don't you dare-"

"THE ONE."

"Sasha!"

"THE ONLY."

"Sasha please"

"ssssssssssSSSSSSSSSSSAAAA"

"SASHA BRAUS. WE GET IT. SASHA BRAUS. You."

"YEAH ITS ME!"

"Yeah, it's you. Okay. Mikasa goes first."

"What do you see in Jean?"

"Ah, yeah."

"We've been waiting for this one."

"She stole my question."

"Please enlighten us."

"Well, as you all probably know, Jean is hella ugly."

"_Amen_."

"And kind of a douchenozzle."

"Preach."

"But! For one thing, if you take away his shiner, his scowl, and his resemblance to a horse, he's actually not all that bad-looking."

"Well, yeah, but he's the kind of 'good-looking' where it takes time and deep inspection to uncover it, so it doesn't really count. Unlike ME."

"..."

"Eren, I'm gonna level with you. You are indeed a fine specimen. But we don't talk about this fact. Because that would make things awkward."

"Whoa, wait. You think I'm hot?"

"Did we not establish this?"

"Huh. I was actually joking earlier. Hey, Armin, am I hot?"

"I've questioned my sexuality over you, yes."

"Why'd you ask Armin specifically?"

"He kind works like Google, but he's more accurate. He's like an Armincyclopedia."

"Nice pun."

"I try. So, like, on a scale of one to ten-"

"Solid eight. Mikasa's a ten. Armin...Armin's a six. Maybe a seven, on a good day."

"Nah, man, on a good day, Armin's a total eight point five. I've heard girls sighing over him before."

"Lies. Not funny ones. Also, I'm not sure how to react to your rating me?"

"Ignore it."

"Sound advice! Anyway, _connysafour_, Jean is not entirely bad looking. He can be...hot. Sometimes. And as for his Gary Oak-esque personality-"

"AYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!"

"Excellent reference usage."

"Okay, cool, I'm surrounded by geeks. Great to know. But as for Jean's...hmmm...sweat stain-like personality, he's not a bad guy at all. Sure he can be a jerk sometimes, but I think that's just because he's terrible with people. He at least tries to be a good person, and he tries hard. He's also totally adorkable, and he loves his mom to death, which is really sweet."

"Okay, yeah. I can see it."

"Good answer."

"I approve."

"He's still a douchenozzle, but I get what you're saying. Also, did you say I was a four?"

"Yes. Watcha gonna do about it?"

"...mope in a corner."

"You're actually a five. A seven, with hair. I was joking. Chin up."

"Eh. It doesn't matter that much, anyway. My PERSONALITY'S ON FLEEK, so why should my looks have to match up?"

"Words to live by."

"_Obviously._"

"Cue Eren."

"Argh! Can you quit it with that already?! The joke's done!"

"_Obviously_."

"_Obviously_."

"_Obviously_. Cue Er-"

"You know what? I'm done."

"_OBVIOUSLY_."

"Cue-"

"Quit it, Armin!"

"I'm not apologizing."

"You're sure he's not always like this?"

"Positive. I didn't raise him to be this cheeky."

"Oh my gosh, guys."

"What?"

"Mikasa is really...MOMkasa!"

"I mean. _Obviously._"

"..."

"..."

"Did he just-"

"Holy crap. I've never seen something like this before."

"Eren ended his own mockery by mocking his mockers."

"How does that even work?"

"It just kind of...does."

"Wow."

"...Okay, we're done here, right? Can we move on?"

"We just finished with Sasha, so now it's Armin's turn."

"Last one."

"Obv-"

"We have a no-tolerance policy for raising the dead here. Thanks."

* * *

**PIQ 5- Armin**

"Kay, it's Armin, everyone. Armin...Alert?"

"Arlert."

"Armin Alert."

"Sure."

"Where'd all your bang go, Sash? Finally got tired of it?"

"Not at all. There were just some, er, frequent interruptions that I decided I wouldn't tolerate."

"You're picking a fight with me."

"That's right. Put 'em up, Springer!"

"To the death, Potato Girl!"

**_[HORRIFIED GASP]_**

"You dIDN'T!"

"I DID."

"Wait, 'Potato Girl'? I don't understand."

"Okay, so when-"

"Inside joke!"

"What's with the twang all of a sudden?"

"What- ahem- what twang?"

"ANYWAY, BACK TO OUR DISCUSSION."

"_Nooooo._ Back to Hot Seat. Have your goofy fight later."

"Goofy?! This is a challenge of HONOR, Jaeger-san!"

"HAI. HONOR. HooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOYAAH!"

"Looks like the caffeine kicked in."

"Right? Okay, you guys settle down. You can have your challenge of honor later. I want to finish this game."

"...Fine."

"Alright. I'm first. Did you or did you not kiss Rachel Delaney?"

"Oh my god, _that_? You cling to stuff, Mikasa."

"No, I need to know. It's been bugging me since we last talked about it, since Armin dodged the question. Did you make out with Rachel?"

"Y-you changed the question."

"I know. So did you?"

"Why...why do you need to know? It seems a little out of character for you to ask, Mikasa."

"No it doesn't. You know I don't let my boys go around kissing sociopaths."

"Hey, she wasn't a sociopath! She was just...detached. She didn't let feelings or empathy affect her decisions. She was a good person to talk to."

"So you made out with her."

"Okay, even I'm curious. Did our Armin score his first kiss with an actually cute girl?"

"ARMIN KISSED SOMEONE?"

"I have no idea what anyone's talking about, but I want to know."

"...I...I would veto this question, but I'm more worried about Eren's, so I need to save it...ahhh...well...I mean- well- she kind of tricked me into it."

"WHOA-HO!"

"That _cunt."_

"Wait a minute. So you're telling me that Armin not only got to kiss someone, but she was cute, and _she kissed him_?"

"Hmmm. Wait. Whoa, wait. Eren, you were spot on. I'm seeing sparkles around his face. Armin can definitely be a cutie. Mm-hm. A real prince, if you look at him right."

"_What did I say?_"

"Guys, please. It meant nothing. She said she just thought I was cute. That's it. Rachel was...impulsive. Ish. She was kind of a wild card, I mean."

"She _stole your first kiss. _On an impulse. When we get back home, I'm going to find her."

"Mikasa, no."

"_Mikasa yes_."

"But Mikasa, I- well- I kindoflikedit."

"AYYYYYY, ARMINNNNN. A boy becomes a man."

"Pfft. Talking all big. I bet Mikasa's Eren's first girlfriend."

"Not true."

"Not true at all."

"Eren's quite the flirt."

"So when you're a jock, you're kind of thrown into the whole social thing. Which is totally cool and fun. You end up meeting and knowing a lot of people. So for a while, since, like, middle school, I ended up getting a lot of dating experience. Started with Theresa. She was kind of really mean."

"I didn't like her."

"Me neither."

"Then there was Brenda. Cute, but too emotionally heavy for me back in 8th grade. Then Isabel, I think, then Sammie, then Carmen, then Mariah, then Juanita, then- wait, I didn't date Juanita until...what summer was that? Were we in high school yet?"

"Doesn't matter."

"Really doesn't. She treated me like an accessory. I didn't like it."

"I didn't like her, either."

"You didn't like any of them."

"Most of them were superficial and clingy. And they ignored me and Armin."

"Yeah, sorry about that. Actually. Wait. I don't think I ever asked most of them out. That's really weird."

"That's only because you hardly ever know what's going on when it comes to that stuff."

"It's a wonder so many girls decided to go out with a doofus like you in the first place."

"I guess it worked the same way I got you to say yes."

"I doubt it."

"You're saying my dashing good looks, as approved by Armin who knows everything, and my perfect sense of humor didn't..._allure you_?"

"Okay, I can't deal with you right now."

"Is it his husky voice?"

"Good-bye, everyone."

"No, wait, Miks, I was joking! You know I love you."

"You-you what?"

"I...I was just joking! Not with what I- like, with my voice. Sorry. I'll stop doing that if it makes you uncomfortable. Honest. Scout's Honor."

"You were kicked out of your troop for beating a kid up."

"Not the point, and also he insulted my mom. Called her ugly and fat. Called my dad a hippie, too. Derek didn't stop me, either. I was right. Anyway, yeah, not the point. I'll stop."

"I can't even stay mad at you. Just stop being a dork."

"I think I can manage at least that."

"..."

"I'm kind of scared, now. He didn't swerve. Like, at all. This is building up to some nasty juju."

"Karma at it's worst."

"Okay, if we crash, can the survivor flip the finger to my sisters for me?"

"YOU JINXED IT CONNY."

"Wait. Aren't we still playing Hot Seat?"

"Holy crap, we are. Who's turn was it?"

"Uhhhhhhhhhhhh, oh! Mine, I think."

"I'm gonna veto."

"Hold on, Ar. It's actually kind of important."

"...okay, I'll hear it."

"Do you remember the thing that happened when we were fifteen? The...the big thing?"

"Big thing? What big thing? Why don't I know about it?"

"Hold on Miks. Do you remember, Ar?"

"Um...I think? When you set our lab on fire and singed my hair?"

"Oh, I know that. Nevermind."

"..."

"That thing, right, Eren?"

"...Yeah. Yeah, that thing. Uh, why'd you partner up with me if you knew I was gonna do that?"

"I forgot about your pyromaniac status. Is that really your question?"

"Yeah. What, you expected some embarrassing story to be brought up?"

"Kind of."

"Well, some people actually consider their friendships things to be treated with sensitivity."

"HA. Eren Jaeger, of all people, wants to preach about _sensitivity. _Golden."

"It's official. Armin needs rest. He's turning all Dark Armin on us. 'Cause that was rude, man, why you gotta be like that?"

"Heh, sorry. I...like irony."

"_Rude._"

"Okay, but before we send Armin to bed, we should finish this game. Finally. Um, Conny's turn."

"What's it like to have the most obnoxious friend in the universe?"

"Well, its-"

"Trick question. Only I know that."

"Hey!"

"Do trick questions even count?"

"I think so."

"Okay, then. Last question of the night, Sasha."

"You read a lot of books, don't you?"

"I do, actually. That's it?"

"One question per turn, right? And I don't know, my mind went at a blank."

"So we're done?"

"We're...done. Wow. That took forever."

"AND THAT."

"SASHA."

"CONCLUDES."

"SASHA PLEASE STOP."

"TONIGHTS EPISODE OF."

"PLEASE-"

"THE HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT SEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaatttt!"

"DO YOU ALL SEE WHAT I HAVE TO PUT UP WITH EVERY DAY."

* * *

**A/N: I LAST UPDATED IN FEBRUARY?!**

**HOW. WHY.**

**IM EXTREMELY SORRY GUYS. HOLY CRAP.**

**Anyway, filler but not filler. Hints and stuff. Yadda yadda yadda. Took me a bajillion years to write this chapter. Remind me never to do a chapter in all-dialogue ever again. It's so easy to write the first time, but since this is the other chapter that got eaten by Open Office's bug, it got tedious to re-write the banter and jokes. This one came out better than the last, though, so. Yeah.**

**Hope you guys enjoyed the Eremika. The heavy, drippy, shoujo manga-style Eremika. So heavy. So rich I might throw up. Ugh.**

**I am, over all, kind of dissatisfied with this chapter. But it's a long-ish read, and full of my lame comedy, so I hope you guys are sufficiently entertained until 2037, which is probably when chapter 9 will fricking come out.**

**I've noticed that this fic has been getting some attention, and all I can say is THANK YOU. I know fanfiction is supposed to be self-indulgent, but the fact that I collectively have 100 followers (on here and AO3) is what finally drove me to finish this chapter. You guys drive me to keep this project going. You're my fuel, and, again, I can't thank you enough for all the positive feedback. I apologize if I don't reply to some reviews; mostly, it's because I run out of things to say without sounding like a robot to myself. Just know that the fact that you guys took the time to write more than "cool fic" makes me so happy my cheeks hurt. So please, keep doing what you're doing.**

**To that one guest reviewer complaining about the lack of Aruani thus far, please be patient. Annie comes much, much later in the story. If you're looking for Aruani stuff, I just published my Aruani week one-shots (all of them are kind of low quality, but I mean, they're there), and there are always plenty (though not enough) of other Aruani fics on this site and others.**

**A special thank-you to those who've promoted me on Tumblr, as well as saythanksplease, who even drew some fantastic art loosely based on this fic. (I seriously flipped when I saw it, dude.)**

**As usual, I deeply apologize for any typos. I'm publishing this without editing, and I type extremely fast. One day, my fics will have no chapters with a letter missing, but today is not that day.**

**EXTRA:**

* * *

"FRICK, we never finished Sasha's turn!"

"Nope. We did."

"No, we didn't! Think about it."

"Nope. We most definitely finished. We're done with this. The game is over. No more."

"We're done."

"I wasn't skipped, what are you talking about?"

"Honestly."

"...You guys are a bunch of f*cktards."

"Language."

"I speak fluent English, thank you."

* * *

_**I own nothing but my dorky personality and my inability to write a dignified story with realistic financial transactions and good spelling.**_

_**alsoyeaiforgottofinishsashaturnwhoops**_


	9. The All-Nighter, Part 3: Recurring

**Icarus &amp; I**

**Chapter 9**

**The All-Nighter Part 3: Recurring**

* * *

**Derek Jaeger had always been something like a role model to me.**

We didn't have much in common, but the fact that he was older than Eren, Mikasa, and me, and the fact that he used such authority so kindly, had always encouraged me to put him on a pedestal.

I tended to get excited when we would hear from him, as we hadn't seen him for a year or two. He would call or Skype us at the most random of times, and if we ever attempted to make contact, he was game almost every time.

Eren, who was (of course) less appreciative of his big brother, didn't make it a point to contact him, despite his willingness to do the same for us. He only ever called Derek if he needed something, whether that be advice, money, or someone to calm him down.

I wasn't quite sure why Eren decided to call Derek thirty minutes after we played Hot Seat, but he did, and that left me practically bouncing in my seat as the phone rang.

"_Hey, little man. What's up? Is everything okay?_"

As soon as I heard his voice, Derek's face popped up in my head. He was extremely similar-looking to Eren, though he was naturally skinnier and lankier, and his hair was longer and messier, his bangs falling into his eyes when he forgot to push them back again.

"Everything's cool, Der," Eren replied. "Just calling to say hi."

"_Wait. EREN is calling to say hi? JUST to say hi? Like, you don't need money, excess Ramen, girl advice, a distraction for Dad or something?_"

"Shut up. I can be a good sibling."

"_HA. Hilarious. Anyway, what's been up with you?"_

"Eren's dating Mikasa!" I blurted. Eren whipped around to glare at me, his entire face red.

"_Whoa, is that Armin? Dude, you didn't say I was on speaker. Hey, Double A. Now, what's this about my little brother finally realizing that love was right beside him all along?"_

"Okay, yeah, we're going out and we're super happy and stuff. Don't make fun."

"_I'm not, I'm not. How's Miks feeling about this?_"

I could hear the smile in Mikasa's voice. "Do you think I'd say yes if I didn't feel the same way?"

"_Ohhh, so__** he **__asked __**you**__? Cute. How goes it, by the way? What're you guys up to?_"

"We're on a road trip," Eren answered. "Having an all-nighter tonight."

"_Ahhh, was that a joke? You're driving all night?_"

Uh oh.

"Yup. We've got some guests here who need to be in New Orleans by tomorrow morning."

Derek hissed anxiously. "_Little man, I don't like this. That crap's dangerous. You sure you can't stop somewhere?"_

Eren shrugged. "We'll be fine."

"_This is making me anxious like crazy. You should at least let Armin drive._"

"No way, Der. We need to be there _on time._"

"_Then what about Mikasa_?"

"She's been driving all day. Also, she's kind of tired."

There was a pause. I imagined Derek pushing his hair back in distress, squinting at nothing in particular, his fingers tapping his thigh. He took a deep breath.

"_Whatever, then. But if you get tired, pull over and call me. Don't try to keep driving. Got it?"_

"Okay, Mom." I could practically hear Eren rolling his eyes.

"_You're lucky I'm not Mom._"

"I know," he said in defeat. Mikasa and I shared a look that felt like, _He'd better know._

Mrs. Jaeger, in short, was not a passive person, let alone a lenient mother. And Eren and Derek both were the kind of kids who wished with all that they had that this were not the case.

"_JUST WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, EREN JAMES?!" _Derek mocked.

"ROAD TRIP MY ASS! WHERE ARE YOU RIGHT NOW? I'M COMING FOR YOU! DON'T MOVE A MUSCLE!" Eren continued in a shrill falsetto, holding back his laughter.

"_ARMIN! MIKASA! HOW COULD YOU TWO LET THIS HAPPEN? I'M DISAPPOINTED IN BOTH OF YOU!"_

Mikasa and I both snickered at that one. It was nothing if not accurate.

"GRISHA, GET THE SWITCH! DON'T YOU 'CARLA' ME, I'LL GIVE YOU A GOOD LICKING TOO!"

"_YOU NEVER LEARN! I'M OVERWHELMED WITH HOW STUPID YOU ARE! AND I'LL KEEP BEATING YOUR ASS UNTIL-" _Derek was laughing so hard he couldn't finish.

"-UNTIL **YOU **HAVE KIDS AND ARE TOO BUSY DEALING WITH **THEIR **RIDICULOUS ANTICS TO BE THIS STUPID ANYMORE!" Eren concluded, his deafening guffaws filling the van.

Conny took out his earphones with a confused expression. "What's going on now?"

"Eren's brother's on the phone," I explained.

"Oh." With that, Conny blocked us out again. I thought I heard him mutter, _"Loud a.f."_

"_And then you'd be all like, 'But- Mom! I HAVE to!' And she'd be all like, 'You don't have to do anything but shut up!' And Dad would be like, 'Carla, please, settle down. I'm sure we can handle this in a quieter way', and she'd just say something like, 'Grisha, I'm sure you can __**exist**__ in a quieter way!' and he would just, like, shake his head and shut up."_

"Nice Dad, by the way." Eren applauded. "You had me fooled for a split second."

"_Dad's easy to imitate. He's basically just a nerdier version of Atticus Finch._"

"Attic Flinch? What are you talking about?"

I sighed. "Atticus Finch, the father of Jean Louise 'Scout' Finch in Harper Lee's ever-famous _To Kill a Mocking Bird. _He's noted as a dignified, extremely admirable man, and a fantastic lawyer. His children, his son especially, look to him as an example of how to act in most situations. You should know this; we read the book our freshman year."

Eren snorted. "Dude, I don't even remember what my horoscope sign is."

"Aries, meaning you're impulsive, impatient, energetic, and a little optimistic. Mikasa's an Aquarius, supposedly honest, just, affectionate, and detached. I'm a Scorpio, suggesting that I'm trustworthy, balanced, ambitious, and manipulative." The facts poured from my mouth without much thought.

"Aren't Scorpios supposed to be evil?" asked Eren, who was very much used to it.

I shrugged. "I've heard that said, yes. But bad guys are awesome, so I don't think I mind."

"_Good ol' Double-A Battery, always there to make me feel intellectually inferior. But, Er, I'm still the smart one out of us two. Don't forget._"

Eren snorted again. "Smart. Right. Because shattering a window with a shampoo bottle when Dad's already pissed with you is smart."

"_Do you want to talk about anger issues, man? Because we can talk about anger issues."_

"I'm game."

Oh no. Why, Eren, why?

"_You bit your Kindergarten teacher because she sent you to time-out again._"

I remembered that. During recess, when the preschool and kindergarten were released together, Ms. Landrey- Eren's teacher- had always tried to keep me away from him, telling me about "choosing friends wisely", and even calling my parents about her concerns. Eren was not a nice boy when I'd first met him, but he liked me, and I'd thought he was a pretty fascinating kid, so I ignored Ms. Landrey. Needless to say, I'm glad I did.

"That's nothing," Eren dismissed. "You threw the microwave at me because I ate your pudding."

"_We agreed on pretending that never happened! You deal-breaker!_"

"All's fair in love in war. And you also slammed me against the wall because I beat you in a race."

"_You knocked me out because Mom sighed and asked me if she could trade you for another kid like me_."

I saw Eren's ears go pink. "You broke my wrist when we were wrestling."  
"_Because we were __**wrestling**__, retard. That was an accident. I said I was sorry. Anyway, you slapped me so hard I lost my hearing. Dad said he could hear the smack from the living room_."

"Dad didn't hear you dropping the F-bomb."

"_True. Then he probably would have done what you did. Have you ever thought about how Dad only ever, like, hit us if we cussed? Then he stopped once we got into middle school. But Mom never stopped._"

"That's 'cause Dad doesn't believe in violence or whatever."

Derek laughed. "_How'd he end up with us for kids?_"

"He got with Mom."

"_There it is_."

"Yup."

There was a break in the conversation (with the Jaeger brothers, that was so rare), and I saw my opportunity.

"So Derek," I began, searching my mind for something of interest to talk about.

"_Yeah, Armin?_"

"Um, how are things?"

He chuckled. I knew he could see straight through me. Eren could, too, judging by the look he gave me in the mirror.

"_Things are good, Double-A_," Derek answered. "_But I'm more worried about my little man and his merry friends. How are things for you, Armin_?"

"...good," I lied. Or maybe I didn't.

The truth was, I had no idea how I was doing. At that moment, I was fine, sure, but I could feel all of my anxiety and nerves twisting and writhing beneath my calm. They did a good job of keeping themselves hidden, but I still knew that they were there.

So I guess I was okay. For the time being.

But does that count as being "good"?

Maybe not.

But even if it didn't, I wouldn't have changed my answer.

"_That's great_," he said, and I could tell he was oblivious, and that made me glad. I'd forgotten that, unlike Eren, Derek's intuition was never very accurate.

Of course, that didn't change the fact that Eren's instincts were still sharp. I caught him give me another look in the mirror, this one devoid of any meaning beneath. Those were the ones I hated the most.

"_So Miks_," Derek continued, blissfully unaware of our silent exchanges, "_how's the little man as a boyfriend? Exactly as you thought he'd be? Is he still a player_?"

I saw Eren's entire head go bright red. "I'm _not _a player!" he exclaimed. "I never have been!"

"He's the worst," Mikasa answered, her tone completely flat. "Always flirting with other girls- guys, too. It makes me really anxious, but he doesn't seem to care."

"_There it is!_" Derek started laughing. "_By the way, how come you come out to Mikasa, but not me? Your own flesh and blood? It's cool that you're bi, little man, I don't care_."

"I'm not!" Eren insisted. I felt the van swerve, just a little. "You're both jackasses, you know that?"

"So defensive," Mikasa sighed.

"_Right? I don't think Er Bear here ever aged past twelve._"

"He really never did," I muttered.

"Armin, I _heard_ that!"

"For the love of all that is food, can you guys keep it down?" Sasha asked in exasperation. So she _could _hear us?

"_Whoa, I hear a cute girl,_" Derek said. "_Not to discredit you, Miks. You're kind of on another level, anyway. Eren's lucky and shouldn't be playing you_."

"Whoa, what?" Sasha asked. "Eren's playing Mikasa? Dude, do you even know how lucky you are to have such a goddess? What's wrong with you?"

So she probably couldn't hear everything.

Eren turned and snapped, "I am not! You would know!"

"Why would _she _know, Eren?" Mikasa asked. I held back a snort. Mikasa wasn't normally the humorous type, but when she tried, she usually hit the target.

Sasha looked at me with an expression that screamed, _oh._

"I actually wouldn't know," she said. "He's been trying to make a move on me, even after Jean and I..." she trailed off. I caught her giving the quickest of glances at Conny.

"I did not!" The car sped up by at least ten miles per hour.

"Uh, guys?" I yelped, gripping my seat belt. "Can we agree to tease Eren after he switches off with Sasha? Please?"

"Fine," Mikasa agreed. I knew her well enough to know that she'd let a small smirk slip out.

"Thank you, Armin," Eren said. "The rest of you suck."

"Darn tootin'," Sasha said.

"Good to hear," Mikasa replied.

"_Truly a master of banter_," Derek remarked. "_Anyway, I actually have to go. Take me off speaker for a second, Eren_."

Eren's head turned back to its usual color in his confusion. "...Okay? What's up Der?"

"_Just some advice. The others don't need to hear it. Just a big Jaeger to a little one._"

"That sounds like a dick reference."

"_Oh my god, you really are twelve_," Derek snorted. "_Just take me off speaker, dork_."

"Alright, alright." Eren drove with one hand (oh, the _anxiety_) and used the other to press the talk button and hold the phone to his ear.

The entire van was silent for about a minute. It started to feel particularly unusual when I realized that Eren hadn't made so much as a peep the entire time.

The silence stretched on. I glanced at my watch. It had been a whole three minutes since anyone had said a word.

Finally, Eren nodded his head. "Alright. Thanks, Der. Right...love you, too. Say hey to mom and dad for me when you get home. Alright. _Alright. _I will. I already said I love you! Fine. Love you. Okay. Good bye, Derek. Do you even actually have to go? That's what I thought…...I'm not saying it again. Not...oh, come on, that's not fair. Technically, I'm in more danger than you are."

I sighed. There were the Jaeger brothers I knew.

Eren laughed. "Derek, that's not fair! Fine. Fine. Love you too. That was the last time. Okay. Good. Okay. Love you, bye."

He hung up. Sasha, Mikasa, and I all watched him silently, wondering when he'd notice it.

Less than ten seconds later, Eren's ears burned pink, and he swore under his breath.

"You said you loved him again," Mikasa told him, just to be smart.

"Yeah," Eren sighed in resignation, not even bothering to be annoyed. "I sure did."

* * *

I had to give Sasha credit: she could be, for lack of a better word, adorable.

Of course, I didn't quite understand her interest in Eren and Mikasa's relationship, and at times her antics, rather than being amusing, verged on irritating, but she was at least sort of cute when talking to Jean.

It's difficult to explain why I felt that way. At first, their relationship had been sort of a nuisance to me. Anytime something notable happened in the Jaegermobile, we all got Jean's input on it, and of course I liked Jean, but there was only so much of him I could handle.

But after some time, Sasha's constant giggles and blushes and nervous head-scratches became...pleasant. Strangely enough, I found myself smiling when I noticed her. Maybe it was attraction. Maybe it was simply a case of Stockholm Syndrome. I'll never know.

Conversely, Conny only became more and more sour-faced in reaction. An hour passed, and then another one. Sasha and Eren switched seats, Mikasa and Conny following suit at the former's request (and it is worth noting that Sasha was, in fact, a better driver than Eren. Marginally so, but I wasn't about to complain). We didn't stop anywhere. I was fighting sleep by chatting with Mikasa, who was fighting sleep by chatting with me.

"Do you think Coach Holly hated me?" I asked. "I think she hated me."

Mikasa shook her head. "No, she didn't. She was just exasperated by you."

"How do you know?"

"She walked up to me and asked if you had a developmental disorder, but in an understanding way."

I sighed. Of course she did.

"She knew I have asthma, right?"

"No. I didn't think it was worth mentioning."

That was true; my case was extremely mild. "But it would have given me a nice excuse," I said.

"Some people are just plain hopeless," she reasoned. "Coach knew that."

"Thanks."

She blinked at me."Oh. Sorry. But it's true."

I twirled a strand of hair around my finger. "I know."

Mikasa stared at me. I figured she was just deep in thought, but after some time, it became unsettling.

"What?"

She blinked again. "...do you remember when you had a crush on me?"

I felt my face flush. Mikasa had been my first crush. I'd hoped she'd forgotten by now, but of course, she hadn't.

"Yes."

A small smile formed on her lips. "Do you remember how you fought Eren for me?"

I snorted. "Yes. He was so mad when I told him, but he swore he didn't like you in that way."

"He didn't," she confirmed. "But you know how territorial he gets."

"I'm right here," Eren reminded us, slightly insulted. We ignored him.

"I remember he beat me up," I chuckled. "I was in the third grade. You guys were in the fourth."

Mikasa's small smile turned into a grin. "Did I ever tell you that, in sixth grade, I returned the feeling?"

"You _what_?" Eren started. "Why do I never know anything?"

"Because you're dumb," Mikasa and I chorused.

I turned back to her, shocked. "But you did? Really?"

She chuckled. "Definitely. I was good at keeping it a secret. Nobody noticed."

"Oh my god," Eren breathed, "so _that's _why you kept abandoning me! Do you know how lonely I was?! I felt like such a loser that year. You guys were, like, hardly ever with me."

"I wanted him to myself. You two were inseparable. It was a challenge I had to meet with everything I had."

Eren shook his head. "I want to say I'm shocked, but honestly? I should've seen it coming. You guys are so devious."

"Look at you, Eren! _Devious_. What a big word!" I cheered sarcastically. He shot me a sharp, exasperated glare.

"Okay, Ar, I _may _be stupid, but at least I'm straightforward. Unlike Miss...I don't know, I can't think up a clever and cutting nickname for you, Miks. But yeah. Unlike Mikasa over here."

"I'm not devious," Mikasa said. "I'm just tactical. And at the time, I didn't want anyone to know. But I still wanted to spend time with him."

I began to chew on my cuticles. "Imagine if things had gone your way, and we'd ended up together," I chuckled.

"That is the weirdest thing you've said today," Eren grinned. "Do you guys think it would've worked out?"

I snorted. "No."

"Definitely not," Mikasa agreed, turning to face me. "Armin I love you, but you're extremely sensitive. You weren't any better seven years ago."

I nodded. "True. And Mikasa, I love you, but at times you can be so demanding in the strangest of ways, and it would have destroyed whatever free will I'd managed to scrape up back then."

"Also," Eren added, "she's mine. Sorry, Ar. I know how ridiculously perfect she is, and it's tempting, but she signed a contract, and we all know the law and everything says you can't unsign a contract."

"I'm really sorry you ended up with him," I told her.

"I am, too," she sighed.

"Rude," Eren muttered.

* * *

We let a period of silence settle over us. Eren, who couldn't deal with Sasha's country music, shoved his headphones in and put on various silent performances in his seat. Mikasa, meanwhile, stared out the window, more than likely seeing nothing but a dark field and the occasional tower. Connie chatted unusually quietly with Sasha in the front, out of range for my nosy ears.

So, rather than eavesdropping, I let my thoughts blend together into an ensemble, or maybe an ocean, and I floated through them, content to never find anything worthwhile in the waves.

But eventually, something came to the surface of my mind. It started out itching, quietly telling me something was off, all the way from the back of my head. Soon enough, it stood in front of me, parting the metaphorical ocean so it would be noticed.

Earlier, Mikasa had called me _sensitive._

And I supposed I was. I cried quite often, for one thing. I was startled easily, for another, and I was just as easily overwhelmed. There were people like Eren, who had thick skin and thicker skulls, who were completely oblivious to the strange lighting of convenience stores and the terrible vibrations of straws squeaking against lids. But I was most definitely not one of those people.

Nevertheless, though maybe I was easily stimulated, _sensitive _was not the word I would have used to describe myself. As a matter of fact, in reference to most things, I was quite clueless.

Let's look at how I was in most social situations, using Eren as my foil again for emphasis. I knew nothing about social cues; in high school, I had been known to talk everyone's ear off, and that was because I had never been quite sure when 'oh no, you're fine' actually meant, 'I'm not mad, just vaguely annoyed. I would strongly prefer that you shut up as soon as you finish this sentence.'. This happened especially frequently my freshman year, when I'd developed an extreme and obsessive fascination with both Star Trek and Star Wars. Simultaneously. (It wasn't as though I'd never seen either one beforehand; my interest in both franchises had simply skyrocketed after some re-watching. It drove both Eren and Mikasa crazy, and I finally slowed down my junior year, when my fascination and obsession became more centered around marine biology, leaving little room for any more sci fi.)

Eren did talk a lot, even back in high school. That never changed. But he hardly rambled on like I did; Eren had a natural competence for conversing. Our classmates enjoyed talking with him, because conversations with Eren often had a positive, fun nature to them. Meanwhile, I was regularly avoided, my peers living in fear of another pondering monologue concerning the mechanics and operations of the USS Enterprise.

And my social encounters weren't even the half of it. Despite my rather emotional tendencies, there were various times when I could completely factor emotion out of a situation, and say some logical, but cruel things nonetheless. One of Eren's ex-girlfriends had come to me for advice once, worried about his attitude towards their relationship. And with good reason. Eren had more or less ignored her most of the time, only occasionally buying her a small gift, or muttering _love you too_ under his breath, so quickly you could barely understand what he was saying.

Because she was suspicious of Mikasa (as most of Eren's girlfriends were), she consulted me, his only other best friend.

"Do you think he really likes me back?" she'd asked nervously. "I feel like he just agreed to go out with me because he was being nice. That would be like him...but yeah, you've seen how he is with me. Is this just how he is? Or is he going to break it off soon? What do you think?"

Part of my response came out the way it did because I didn't particularly like this girl. Of course I didn't _dislike_ her, but I honestly knew nothing about her, or even how she'd ended up dating Eren in the first place.

Another part of it was that I can be the most emotionally insensitive bastard I know.

"He hasn't told me anything," I'd assured her, "but I would guess that, most of the time, he just forgets you exist. When you message him, he blinks at his screen for a few seconds, like he can't remember which Monica you are, or why you would text him at all. He never talks about you, either. Even when you're with him, he seems impatient, like you're wasting his time. I'd say your safest bet would be to tell him you've changed your mind in the simplest, clearest way possible, and move on to someone who'll actually care about you, if anyone at all."

And Monica cried. And I felt terrible.

In hindsight, I wondered how I missed it- how much she liked Eren. It should have been obvious. She had always seemed so happy just to be by his side, just to hold his hand, just to hear the vaguest of compliments from him. And, when I'd had the opportunity to let her down gently, I didn't even recognize it. She spent the next two weeks sobbing in remote places, wearing ratty hoodies and hardly ever applying what used to be her usual face of makeup.

I only knew because I watched her. I felt so guilty about the whole thing, I couldn't help but watch her until she seemed better.

And this is all just one example.

I've voiced these concerns before, to my parents. I knew neither Mikasa nor Eren would provide me with objective analyses.

My father didn't prove to be much better, unfortunately.

"You're plenty sensitive enough, Armin, even emotionally speaking. You handle situations with such great tact and maturity! You're just second-guessing yourself; there's nothing here to be worried about."

It was exactly what I feared Mikasa and Eren would say, and I wasn't satisfied with that answer because I'd already considered it.

"Sensitive?" my mother had repeated. "That's ridiculous, sweetheart. You're about as emotionally sensitive as a calculator. But you _are _logical, and logic can indeed feed tact in a way that emotion can't."

"That's what I've been thinking."

"Good, so we're on the same page. I'm assuming Eren, Mikasa, and your father hadn't considered this?"

"No. That's why I asked you."

"Well, thank you for the vote of confidence."

"You're welcome...I guess."

"So I suppose you're bringing this up because you're concerned about you being a good person? Is that right?"

"Yes."

"Well, let's discuss what being a 'good person' means. What does it mean to you, Armin? Don't try to sound intelligent."

"It means...being kind, I guess. Or, rather, benefiting the human race?"

"Don't try to sound intelligent, Armin."

"I'm not. But, logically speaking, if there's no inherent good or evil, then 'good' is what is of benefit to the human race, and 'evil' is what is of detriment to it, right? So being a good person is simply being a...beneficial one? Convenient?"

"_Exactly_. You finally found your way to it. People won't necessarily consider you a good person if you, say, organize all of the Earth's resources to be used more efficiently- which would be of benefit to the human race- but if you went in and added their favorite snack to their pantry, or gave them a couple thousand dollars, asking nothing in return, they most definitely would. So a good person is merely a convenient one, and they're usually motivated to be so convenient by the self-satisfaction they receive after doing what society considers a 'good' deed, or a generous one. Therefore..."

"...I'm a good person?"

"In some ways, yes, but that's not what I was getting at."

"...I shouldn't...strive to be a good person?"

"Closer. You shouldn't strive so _hard, _sweetheart. It's not as big of a deal as everyone thinks it is."

"Really?"

"Logically speaking, yes."

My mother had answered my question with much more eloquence than my father, needless to say.

Nevertheless, it had only been enough for the time being.

_Logically speaking, _she'd said. Mom had always had a terrible habit of assuming she was always right, simply because she always thought logically.

I was insensitive, and that made me a bad person. In some ways. It was embarrassing, to say the least.

But, according to logic, being a good person wasn't quite as important as I thought it was.

But, according to me, if I wasn't perfect, I was worthless.

I blinked at the window, startled.

"If I'm not perfect, I'm worthless," I whispered, staring at my reflection.

Why did that feel so true?

* * *

_Day 6_

_I don't even know where to start._

_I was thinking about myself again, considering another personal characteristic I worry about (my insensitivity), when I stumbled across an absurd philosophy of mine._

_Is it possible to believe in something without knowing you do? Because I don't remember ever telling myself this, or hearing it from someone else. It's such a toxic idea, but I believe it, and I have no idea why I do._

_If I'm not perfect, I'm worthless._

_Isn't that terrible? What a double-standard I hold! I wouldn't ever **dream **of thinking this about anyone else, regardless of who they are or what they do._

_But I still believe it. _

_I've always prided myself in being so intelligent. In knowing better when my peers fell into stupid situations and mentalities._

_But here I am, telling myself that I have to be perfect! It's unbelievably and utterly impossible to be perfect; I'm sure everyone knows that. I can't understand how I fell into this mentality._

_Even worse, I've realized since that I've **always **believed this. Always! Since I can remember!_

_That explains my crippling fear of failure, of disappointing others. It explains why I'm so eager to please, my anxious personality, everything! I'm built upon an unattainable ideal! _

_I'm so! Incredibly! Stupid!_

* * *

An hour or so passed. I tried reading to take my mind off of my newest revelation, which only halfway worked. Mikasa played games on her phone, and Eren, as far as I could tell, was still playing air guitar. Sasha and Conny had quit talking. I hoped that didn't mean anything; Jean and Marco had provided me with enough drama to last the entire trip.

I was surprised that no one had fallen asleep yet. We'd hit midnight, and only Mikasa had ever seemed tired. Even I was quite awake, almost nervously energetic- which should have been a sign, in retrospect. It's strange how you never spot the warnings until they're frustratingly irrelevant.

Conny had to use the restroom again at around 12:30. We stopped at an old gas station to let him do so, Sasha deciding to follow suit. Knowing we were on a schedule, they speed-walked the whole way. It was a humorous sight, but for some reason, I didn't feel much like laughing, or even giggling.

Eren asked to switch seats with me. Mikasa raised an eyebrow, first at him, then at me, silently asking what had prompted the change. I tried my best to make a face that answered, _I honestly have no idea._

"Armin," Eren said, "Do you mind grabbing me a slushie? I'm kind of on a sugar low right now."

"...sure."

I glanced at Mikasa, who looked as lost as I felt.

Eren grinned, but I knew it was forced. "What's with the face? We can't have a little privacy?"

Mikasa rolled her eyes, relaxing. After a moment of confusion (how had she bought that?), I remembered that she couldn't see his face. She'd feel as nervous as I did soon enough.

Dutifully, I played along and grabbed Eren a full-sized cola-based slushie. When Sasha and Conny fast-walked out of the men's and women's restrooms, somehow at the exact same time, I stopped them.

"Oh," they said as soon as they saw my expression.

Conny squinted at me. "Hot couple drama?"

"Er...yes, I think."

Sasha sighed. "So what do we do?"

"I'll go out first. If you see me get into the car, that means everything's fine. I'm sorry about this, honestly."

"Ehh," Conny dismissed. "It's cool. Not your fault, anyway."

Sasha tousled my hair. "You're a sweetie," she said. "Don't apologize for them; it makes me feel guilty."

Without meaning to, I ducked away from her hand, my palms clamming up a little. "Thanks, I guess."

Fortunately, Sasha was apparently not the type of person to be offended by a nervous reaction. "Consider it a compliment."

"Then thanks."

"Then you're welcome." She smiled and gestured to the door. "Shall we execute this brilliant plan?"

"Yeah," I answered, and out I went.

And out I wished I'd never gone.

"Look, Miks. This is about both of us, not just you."

"No, it's not."

"Yes it is! Okay, imagine that I never told you anything. That every time there was an issue, I kept my mouth shut about it. Suffering in silence isn't brave, Mikasa, it's stupid and childish."

"You want to scold me about childishness? Take a look at yourself, Eren. Do you even know what you're going to do after this trip?"

I put a hand over my mouth. This was bad. This was absolutely terrible. He'd gone and pried again, and now there was a huge can of worms on the table, fresh and nasty.

"That's none of your concern."

"It's not? Sorry, I just assumed that we were diving completely into one another's business. According to you, that's what a relationship is, right?"

"Fuckin hell, Mikasa, I have no idea what a relationship is! I'm not trying to say that I do!"

"Then stop preaching to me."

"I'm not preaching!"

"You are."

"I'm not, I swear. I just...do you know how ugly it feels, breaking up with someone you actually like?"

"Where did this come from?"

"I'm so scared, Miks-"

"Then quit creating problems."

"What the hell?! I'm not!"

"You are. Everything was fine until you decided to bring up an argument we've already resolved."

"We've resolved jack shit!"

"Language."

"To hell with language. I decided, for once in my life, to let go of confrontation. I thought it was better for us, at least in the beginning. But Derek-"

"Derek has nothing to do with us."

"Would you shut the hell up? Jesus, I can't even finish a goddamn sentence."

"Like you're one to talk. Even when I manage to get out a full sentence before the Eren Show decides to come back from its break, it's not like you listen."

"I do listen!"

"That's why you applied to Rose U, right?"

"Quit bringing that up! It has nothing to do with what we're talking about."

"I'll bring up your issues as many times as you bring up mine."

"So you admit it's an issue."

"_It's only an issue because you make it one."_

I decided that enough was enough. I hopped back into the van, pointedly closing the door behind me.

Eren and Mikasa grew very quiet.

"...how long have you been there?" Eren asked.

"I hate fighting," I answered. "And I hate it when you guys fight."

"If you want to blame someone, blame him," Mikasa said, her voice steely and her words ice-cold.

"Yeah, Armin, blame the guy trying to resolve a serious issue," Eren mocked.

"I'm blaming both of you. Eren for starting it, and Mikasa for giving it the ability to exist in the first place."

"Armin, would you appreciate my bringing up how you never solve problems? How you just cry about them? Would you like to talk about that?"

For a moment, we could've heard a pin drop.

"That was completely fucking uncalled for," Eren said, looking Mikasa in the eyes.

She turned to me, looking horrified.

And I was angry.

She began to apologize, but I cut her off.

"I don't want to hear it," I said.

"I didn't mean that," she tried. I ignored her, pulling out my phone and putting in my earphones.

Sasha and Conny jumped in before I began to play my music, holding a few trinkets they must've gotten from the store. Sasha began to drive, her shoulders tensing from the heated atmosphere.

At least they'd never heard the fight.

* * *

**A/N: WOW I UPDATED BEFORE THE SUMMER ENDED AND I HAD TO GO BACK TO SCHOOL? WHAT ON EARTH?**

**Seriously, I'm so SO SORRY FOR BEING SO SLOW IN UPDATING. MY GOSH. **

**Remember how I was going to censor words? Well, not in scenes where they create emphasis. They're kind of distracting, I've found. So Armin shall hereby only censor certain words if they do not add to his pain and misery. ;)**

**This chapter was meant to be really long, but it's been a while since I last updated, and the summer's almost over, so I thought, "Eh. Now or never." **

**I hope you enjoyed Derek Jaeger. He's a babe, and I'm a little excited to introduce other characters like him. **

**If you're excited for the Sasha/Conny spotlight, the wait is almost over! They get all of the attention next chapter, so stay tuned.**

**Again, a giant thanks to all of you, especially those that review! My heart skips a beat when I see that someone's commented, every time.**

**Shoutout to Jessica, Sydney, and saythanksplease, for- idk, your friendship? You guys are so cool, and I'm glad we started talking. **

**Also, headcanons are totally welcome in reviews; I'm always looking for them filler ideas. Headcanons, prompts, requests, whatever! And don't forget to feed me my daily dose of critique, please.**

**I won't lie. I'm not sure when the next chapter's coming out, seeing as this year is going to be super busy for me. But I don't think I'm giving up this story for quite a while, so don't give up on me just yet. If I don't have it done by New Year's at the LATEST, you can assume I'm dead from stress.**

**Hope you enjoy the rest of your summer! (*whispers* see you next water time...heh...heh...)**

**(And, as usual, I apologize for any typos or glitches in the story. Feel free to point out anything I've missed.)**


	10. The All-Nighter, Part 4: Diverging

**Icarus &amp; I**

**Chapter 10**

**The All-Nighter, Part 4: Diverging**

* * *

**As strange as this may sound, fighting wasn't the norm for us.**

Now, let me just say that Eren Jaeger is indeed the most confrontational boy in the world, and that he, Mikasa, and I were as different as morning, noon, and night. But- mostly due to Mikasa's and my aversion to conflict- we didn't seriously fight all that often. I can count the amount of times we've really tried to hurt one another on my two hands.

I'm not stupid. Well, in some ways, I am, but I'm not dense enough to think for even a second that Mikasa was trying to hurt me with what she'd said. And in truth, it didn't even bother me all that much. I knew I was a crybaby, and I knew I panicked over more situations than I solved. It was an embarrassing fact, but I'd never quite rejected it. It wasn't a berserk button of any sorts.

But what had really upset me was her willingness to say it, and the dismissal implied. I will be interrupted, I will be shushed, I will be invalidated without so much as a complaint, but I will _not _be dismissed.

And so, at 2:30 a.m., the car was dead silent. Mikasa had fallen asleep, as was made evident by her even breathing. Eren, I knew without bothering to check, was still up, and I myself was fighting sleep. I don't quite know why I was so reluctant to drift off, but I was. Part of it was probably the unsettling nausea in the pit of my stomach, part of it the buzzing in my head. But that's all I can come up with.

Sasha and Conny had been talking up until a half hour ago, which is also when I decided to turn off my music (a decision prompted by the aforementioned buzzing in my head). I couldn't tell if Conny was asleep, but I could hear what I assumed was music playing from his headphones.

2:39 a.m.

I was so tired and I was burning with indignation and hurt.

2:40 a.m.

It was so quiet.

2:41 a.m.

I thought of a joke to tell Eren,

2:42 a.m.

but then I thought better of it.

2:43 a.m.

He wouldn't have laughed, anyway.

2:44 a.m.

I'm not really all that funny.

2:45 a.m.

It's only been five minutes since 2:40?

2:46 a.m.

"...Armin?"

I blinked. That had been Sasha. I think.

"...Yes?" I responded.

She sighed. "Good, you're awake. You mind talking to me? I'm getting pretty drowsy, and Conn here's gone and abandoned me."

No, I did not want to talk. I wanted to continue counting the minutes until I was satisfied (looking back, I don't know what, exactly, I was hoping for. Maybe I was counting until it was 3:00. I'll never know).

But I'm not rude, and I wasn't keen on the idea of crashing into a fence.

"Sure. What do you want to talk about?"

She paused. I knew exactly what she was going to ask.

"Do you mind if I vent?"

I shook my head. "No, not at all."

I did mind. I was angry and tired and I wanted to turn to Mikasa, wake her up, and lecture her on my personal requirements of respect, and have her just agree to be communicative with Eren and me, and scold Eren for perpetuating conflict and smack Conny on his close-shaven head and tell him to quit being so obviously jealous and- I don't know- magically resurrect my grandfather from the dead and drink some tea with his animated corpse and hear his wonderful English accent and help him trim his beard and discuss the evolution and anatomy of manatees.

But I'm Armin. I'm not allowed to be irritable. If I'm irritable, who's going to be the mediator, the peacemaker?

Sasha groaned. "Okay, so Conny. He's getting on my nerves. He has been since we left Trost. I know it's about Jean, but. Like. Jeez. I need him off my back about it."

"Do you want advice?" I asked. I did not want to give advice.

"Sure."

I was tired and angry. I did not want to give advice. Why did I offer advice?

"Do you know if Conny sees you in a romantic way?" I asked.

Sasha snorted. "I know for a fact he doesn't. We tried it once, just because we felt like we were supposed to. It didn't work. It...felt weird."

"Okay, then, is he a jealous friend?"

"Sort of."

"Have you ever had a boyfriend before?"

She snorted. "Don't I wish."

"That's surprising," I said without thinking.

"Are you-"

"No, no, no, no," I clarified frantically, "just saying I personally think you're a catch."

"Well thank you. You too, honestly. But anyway, no, no boyfriends. I don't even know with Jean."

I sighed. This was too difficult, and I was too tired, but -again- I wasn't rude or mean.

"Why do you think he gets upset, then?" I asked.

She sighed, too, the sound dripping with exasperation. "I honestly have zero idea. He's just snapping at me all the time, and it's pretty asshole-ish of him to do without telling me why, y'know?"

Conny bolted straight up, startling Sasha and me both.

"Okay, that's bullshit and you _know_ it! You _know _why I'm pissy about all of this! Don't try to act clueless, and don't pull these guys into our issues! I was gonna keep my mouth shut and pretend I couldn't hear anything, y'know, because I didn't want to blow up and wake up Mikasa or Eren-"

"Wide awake already," Eren muttered.

"Fine. Whatever. I didn't want to wake up Mikasa. But then you started talking shit about me-"

"I'm not talking shit!" Sasha objected shrilly. "And I'm not lying, and I don't know why you're so mad about me and Jean!"

Conny pounded his fist on the dashboard. I heard Mikasa inhale sharply, whispering, "What? What's going on?"

"Dammit Sasha," Conny yelled, "I know you do! I know you're not this stupid!"

Sasha hit the brakes, hard. Mikasa's head pounded into my headrest.

"Mikasa!" Eren exclaimed. I turned, alarmed. She rubbed her forehead, disoriented.

"You okay?" Eren's voice had raised an octave. He pushed her bangs back and checked for marks.

"Yeah," she sighed, "I'm- I'm fine. You can scoot back now, Eren."

He stiffened at the sudden change in her tone.

"Be that way," he muttered, turning back to his window. I rolled my eyes at both of them.

Meanwhile, Sasha and Conny were still fighting.

"I won't believe you're that dumb, Sasha. I know you. You can't pull any of your acts on me."

"It! Is not! An act! I am lost and feeling attacked, Conny! Attacked for no reason! If you really know me so well, you'll know that nothing pisses me off more than that."

Eren sighed. "Sasha, no offense, but can you keep driving? We're pulling this all-nighter for you guys in the first place."

Her grip tightened on the steering wheel. "Sorry, Eren, but no. I'm not driving until Conny quits being an ass."

I put my head in my hands. "This is juvenile," I groaned.

"That's what I'm saying!" Conny yelled. "Sasha, you know!"

"I don't! Why don't you just tell me already?"

"Oh my fucking god," Eren said, "Sasha. Conny has a thing for you. He's jealous, okay? There we go, it's out there, it's been said."

There was a loud _thwap. _

"Ahh- _god_!"

Eren held his cheek and leaned over to cope with the pain. Mikasa's eyes were red, her mouth pressed into a straight line, her hair even messier than usual.

"Mind your own goddamn business," she spat, and Eren and I both stiffened at her language. Mikasa only ever swore if she was downright furious. We had entered what I considered a worst-case scenario.

But it got even worse. Eren straightened his back, looked her in the eye, and said, "It's my business when it affects me. Anyway, if you're so worried about people staying in their lane, Mikasa, why don't you give it a try for once, huh?"

"What are you even talking about?"

"Mikasa Ackerman, you fucking _slapped me across the face _for doing something you personally didn't think I should've done. And it hurts like a bitch, still. And you're a fucking hypocrite."

Her eyes flashed. "I am not."

A muscle in Eren's jaw twitched. His entire face began to turn a dark red. "You _are_. You want to preach to me about minding my own goddamn business? Then quit fucking preaching to me! If you want me to stop trying to help you with your flaws, then stop trying to help me! I know I'm an ass! I know I stick my nose in shit I'm not involved in! You telling me that doesn't make me angry. But you know what does? Having to listen to you self-righteously remind me that I'm wrong for speaking up in any given situation, having to listen to you rant on and on about how just because we're together doesn't mean we should take responsibility for each other, and then turn around and pull this shit! You're full of _shit_, Mikasa! You are a fucking hypocrite! Don't tell me you're not, I'll fucking fight you!"

"And I'll kick your ass, Eren!" she shouted back. My head began to ache.

"And you were wrong, dumbass," Conny added, "that's not why, and Sasha knows it. Don't you?"

"I also know you're being stupid," Sasha replied, "and you should tell me what the hell is wrong with you."

"Look, you're playing dumb and it's _not funny_."

"You're being an ass, and I don't know what you want from me!"

And then Eren shouted at Mikasa.

And then Mikasa shouted back.

And then Sasha shouted at Conny.

And then Conny shouted back.

And then my ears began to ring, and their words turned to noises, loud noises filling my head, clouding my vision, and I was the mediator, and the car was not moving, and my grandfather was dead, and my best friends were fighting, and I was angry. I was so, so angry.

"_Enough!" _

The van fell silent. Everyone glared at their hands.

My face felt as though it would explode.

"Sasha, Conny, I don't know what's going on between you two, but I do know it's got something to do with Jean, and I know Sasha really is clueless, and that you both are wasting our time.

"Eren and Mikasa, stop. I'm appalled at how the two of you are acting, and still upset with both of you for perpetuating the conflict twice in a row. _Twice. _Do you understand how irrevocably childish this is? How juvenile? You're eighteen years old. Show some maturity greater than a thirteen-year-old's, lower your voices, and _apologize_, for goodness sake. Then leave it be. Let it go. Make up. We can all argue to our hearts' content once we're in New Orleans. But not in this closed space with Armin in the middle, okay? Can we do that much?"

For a moment, no one replied, and I had no idea what I was supposed to do.

Soon enough, however, Eren spoke up.

"Armin. Look at me."

I did. His eyes burned into mine. I struggled to take even breaths.

His words were clear and crisp.

"Fuck off."

"Honestly," Conny added.

I resisted the urge to shrink into myself, instead making forced eye contact with both of them.

"No," I said, "I won't."

"Armin, please," Mikasa sighed. "Just stay out of this. You're not in charge of us. And I don't think any of us appreciate being spoken to like we're five."

"That's how you're acting," I objected. "And don't think I've forgotten what you said earlier, Mikasa. You're the last person who should be telling me to do anything."

"I didn't mean it that way and you know it."

"That doesn't mean it didn't hurt."

"Either way, fuck off," Eren interrupted. "You've got such a superiority complex, I swear to god."

It was as though he'd punched me in the gut. Shortly after my shock had subsided, something hot and suffocating pressed against my chest and fumed from my throat.

"If I do, it's only because I know I'm surrounded by idiots," I snapped back.

The words had flown from my mouth; I knew I'd made a mistake as soon as I heard myself.

The van became silent once again.

"Wow," Sasha said. She pressed the gas once again.

"I can't believe you just-" Conny stopped himself. He jammed his earphones back in.

"Nice one, Armin," Eren sighed. "Real fuckin nice."

Mikasa said nothing. I turned to face her, just to gauge her reaction, but she wouldn't even look at me.

And I felt so stupid. So imbecilic, so foolish, so vacuous. So embarrassed of myself, I wanted to vomit.

What an arrogant thing to say. I couldn't believe I'd said it. I couldn't believe I'd said that, out loud, to everyone's faces.

What on earth was wrong with me?

My face began to heat up, my eyes and lips swelling, my nose and throat burning and aching. My vision became blurry. I began to cry, to hyperventilate, to shake, and I do not exaggerate when I say that that made it one of the most embarrassing moments in my life.

"_We're_ the childish ones," Eren muttered. I folded my arms and buried my face in them.

For some time, the only sounds to be heard were the roar of the road and my pathetic sniffling.

* * *

Time passed. Eren began to snore. As did Conny. Mikasa, from what I could tell, also drifted off. My breathing, eventually, slowed. I stopped crying. I looked out the window and played my music.

Soon after, we rolled into another gas station, but not by a pump. Just in front of the store. Sasha turned to me. She didn't look angry.

"You didn't mean that," she said quietly. Her eyes searched mine.

"I didn't," I confirmed.

"Do you have an anxiety disorder, Armin?"

The question startled me.

"Not that I know of," I answered. My father had never run any tests, but he seemed certain enough that I was mentally healthy. Any unusual behavior had always been passed off onto the hormonal phenomena of adolescence, which made sense.

She stared at my shoes. "Well, believe it or not, I do. And it sounded to me like you had an anxiety attack. Thats- that's what I sound like when I do."

I studied her, honestly surprised. Of course, I was aware that the disorder was not equivalent to the person, but Sasha just seemed so at ease with everything, so comfortable, I never would have guessed she might feel otherwise.

She grinned. "I know what you're thinking. Sasha The Jokester takes meds for an anxiety disorder? Really?"

I wondered if she and Marco had ever had a telepathic conversation.

"Well, I do. And I think you might have what I have, Armin. You show a lot of the symptoms."

"Symptoms?" I repeated. For all of my knowledgeability, I didn't know much about psychology. At least, I didn't know as much as I knew about other topics. My father, unlike my mom, had never gone in depth when explaining these things to me, believe it or not. It had always been about how I was feeling, never why I was feeling that way.

"Yeah," she said. "Hyperventilating and crying when you're under stress, discomfort with physical contact, occasionally intense feelings when you make eye contact, easily overwhelmed- it feels familiar to me."

Ah. I'd known those were the symptoms of your typical anxiety disorder. But I'd only exhibited such symptoms on occasion. True, they had become more apparent since my breakdown, but generally speaking, I didn't think I, for lack of a better word, qualified to label my situation as a mental health disorder.

Besides, my father had a Ph.D. in Psych. He taught it on a post-secondary level. He researched the topic and all subtopics that followed on a regular basis. I had always been his number one patient. Of all people, he should have known best. So if he said my having an anxiety disorder was unlikely, it was unlikely.

"Thank you for your concern, Sasha," I said, "but I doubt that's the case. I've just been under a lot of stress recently, and I think it may be affecting my ability to handle intense situations."

She frowned. "Well…..okay, then. I still think it's possible, but whatever. I haven't known you very long, anyway."

I nodded.

"But you really didn't mean that, did you?" she asked.

I shook my head. "Of course not. Sometimes, I think without speaking. It was stupid of me."

She shrugged. "We're all kind of stupid, aren't we? Just part of being a kid."

"Yeah," I answered. She pulled out of the parking lot and back onto the road. Something else occurred to me.

"Sasha?"

"Yeah?"

"Am I….insensitive?"

She snorted. "Kinda, yeah. Emotionally, at least. Because you didn't help solve the problem at all. Not even a little."

"So I figured," I sighed.

"But again, we've all got our flaws, Armin. There're things about ourselves we'll never fix. And that's just us being human."

She meant for it to be comforting. I knew she did. But all I could think about was how awful it would be, to live with my imperfections and, I suppose, my humanity, my whole life. I was aware that that's how life works, what life is, but that fact didn't make me feel any better. At seventeen, I was already sick of dealing with myself.

If I'm not perfect I'm worthless.

A toxic idea, and ridiculous and harmfully perfectionistic, but all too understandable now. I did not cling to it as a reason of drive, but as a reason of self-hatred. And that's where it belonged: right on the desk in the forefront of my mind, labeled NEGATIVE, but existent nonetheless. A reminder that I was Armin Tyler Arlert II, and that I was, had been, and always would be shamefully inadequate in most ways.

Sasha continued to make light conversation with me as she drove. I felt nauseous, but I knew as well as she did that talking could only help us right now. She complained about her tiredness periodically, and it worried me.

"You know," she said quietly, "I think I do know why Conn's been so salty about Jean."

"You do?" I asked. She'd been so adamant before; I'd been nothing if not convinced of her argument.

"Yeah," she answered. "You know how we're going to stay in New Orleans?"

"Yes?"

Her shoulders sagged. "Well, he's only staying for two days. Then his sister is coming to pick him up and take him back to Arkansas. And we're-" She stopped and took a deep breath, most likely to get rid of the thickness in her voice. "We're not going to see each other for a while. Like, years, probably."

She sniffled and curled forward. I tried to imagine that- leaving Eren and Mikasa for years. No visits. No random meetups. Just Facebook and Skype.

Just the thought of it made me feel lonely.

"Oh," I said quietly.

Sasha took another deep breath, this one shakier than the last.

"Yeah. And…..yeah. I can see why he's mad."

My brow furrowed. "Then….why are you spending so much time and energy on Jean? If you and Conny aren't going to see each other for a while, then why spend your last moments focusing on someone else?"

"I'm- okay, this sounds stupid out loud. I was trying to be...strong about it. Mature. I didn't want to cry when he left. I didn't want to feel lonely. But the thing is, I was already starting to. And then Jean came along, and I was like, 'wow look at this asshat', and then he turned out to be kind of cute and nice and I liked him alot and god, he's such a good distraction. We're so different and he's, like, my first romance, and it's all so fun, and I don't feel lonely when I talk to him. But every minute I spend with Conny has this...like….this pang at the end of it. He'll tell a joke, and we'll have a good time, but once everything gets quiet, we're both thinking, 'this is gonna end soon', and I always feel like crying. And it sucks."

"Oh," I repeated.

"I know," she said, "it's selfish of me. But I don't know what else to do. It just hurts so much, y'know?"

I thought about what would happen when we got back home. I would pack up for Sina U and leave for the next school year. Eren and Mikasa would stay in Shiganshina. I would share a room with a stranger, be surrounded by strangers, be alone. I doubted I'd make friends; no one would want to talk to the pale, skinny kid tucked in the corner of the room. I'd probably miss Eren and Mikasa more than anything in the world. As a matter of fact, thinking about it, I didn't know how I was supposed to be happy without them. They'd always been by my side. How was I supposed to manage by myself?

"Yeah," I answered, frowning at my hands. "I do know."

* * *

Sasha and I continued to talk through her tiredness. At about 4 a.m., we stopped again.

"Bathroom break," Sasha called. Conny sat up. She turned to me. "Armin, can you wake up Eren and Mikasa?"

I gingerly tapped on Mikasa's shoulder. "Mikasa," I said softly. "Hey. Wake up."

She blinked at me and sat up. There was a red impression on her cheek. "Armin?"

And my mind rushed back an hour, and all I could think of was how much I was going to miss her, and how this was our last time together for a while, and loneliness threw my arms around her and dug my face into her shoulder.

"I'm sorry for everything," I said. "And I'm sorry I got so ridiculously upset when you said what you did. I know it was a misunderstanding. It was wrong of me to be so indignant and try and punish an honest mistake."

I suppose that woke her up. She returned the hug and stroked my hair. "It's okay," she answered. "I'm sorry I was so….childish and hypocritical. You and Eren are right. I just-" she sighed. "I'm just frustrated. I'm sorry I took it out on you two."

"It's fine," I assured her. "I'm not upset about it anymore."

Her forgiveness didn't surprise me. As I'd stated earlier, she had never meant any harm. Mikasa, more often than not, would rather accept an apology than perpetuate an argument for the sake of it. She held grudges, sure, but it was always obvious when she did.

Eren, on the other hand, was another story altogether.

We both turned to him. He slept with his brow furrowed, drool running down his lip, his arms folded. Even without a bed, he'd somehow managed to contract a serious case of bedhead.

I looked at Mikasa. She looked back at me.

"You're his girlfriend," I said.

"You weren't the one he was fighting with," she said back.

"I'd bet that if you kissed him, he'd wake in a good mood."

She made a face, probably thinking about the stream of drool. "Why don't you kiss him, Armin?"

I bit at a hangnail on my thumb.

"I think I have a better idea, actually."

My hands were cold, which was good. I knew for a fact that Eren was almost always warm; our contrasting temperatures would help.

Quickly, I reached forward and pinched each of Eren's ears between my fingers. He shuddered awake, his hands slapping at mine. I yanked them away, but he caught my fingertips, nevertheless. They stung.

He made a face at me, most likely trying to look intimidating, but instead just seeming mildly annoyed and confused.

"Whaddayouwant," he muttered.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"That's real fuckin neato." He turned back toward the window.

"Mikasa's sorry, too."

That surprised him. He blinked at me in confusion, then glanced at Mikasa, who nodded.

"Thanks," he sighed, and turned toward the window again.

Mikasa tapped my shoulder. I turned.

"Let me handle him," she said. Dutifully, I sat back in my seat.

He faced her, and even from where I sat, I could see him trying to hold on to that stubbornness of his. Eren had always been a grudge-holder, and it had never done him much good.

"I was wrong," Mikasa said. Eren raised an eyebrow. "My concerns are your concerns, Eren. They always have been. And the opposite's true. And now that we're in a relationship, I can't act independent. You were also right about me being a hypocrite. It's not that I really believed what I said, I'm just- I'm just scared, and I don't know how to deal with it. I don't know how to solve problems, and I don't want us to fight, and I'm so new to all of this and it's with you, possibly the most important person in my life, and I just-"

Eren stopped her with a kiss (I'd never be able to figure out his mood swings). She made a face.

"Okay, first of all, Eren, that was gross because there's drool on your lip. And second of all, let me finish. Maybe it worked with your exes, but I think you know well enough that you can't win me over with that."

He nodded and quickly wiped at his mouth, looking embarrassed. "Sorry, I had to. But go on."

She took a deep breath, one that said, you're making this difficult, and continued.

"I'm bad at talking right, sometimes, and even worse at solving problems with anything but violence or, like, a few stern words. And you know that. I didn't know what to do when we'd run into our first roadblock but push you away until you got the message. And then Armin intervened, and I told him what I did because I was trying to get him on my side, and it came out so wrong, and then all hell broke loose, and I'm sorry. More than anyone else, it's my fault. And I'm trying to say that I want you to help me, Eren. But only if you let me help you with similar things."

I fought a smile. It was the right thing to say.

Eren sniffled. I tried not to snort; his nose had turned red, and his eyes had puffed up. (Again- I would never truly understand his mood swings. It was simply yet another characteristic that made my best friend such an irritatingly enigmatic person.)

"Are you….crying?" Mikasa asked, slightly incredulous.

"No. Shut up." He pressed his shirt to his eyes. "I'm just emotional, okay? 'Cause I didn't want to fight, anyway, and we made up so fast, and god. Jesus. Thanks, Miks. I'm sorry, too. You can nag me about Rose U all you want now."

She sighed, smiling a bit, and wrapped her arms around him. As he hugged her back, he looked at me, his eyes begging me to join them.

I couldn't contain the warm bubble of laughter that escaped me as I wrapped each of my arms around their shoulders.

As I'd stated earlier, Eren Jaeger was likely the most confrontational boy in the world, and he, Mikasa, and I were as different as morning, noon, and night, but I loved them to death. Those feelings were stronger than any differences between us, than any bitter or indignant attitudes that might've sprouted.

Eren quit trying to hide his sniffles. "I'm sorry Ar," he said between them. "I was an ass to both of you guys, and I'm sorry."

Mikasa and I chuckled.

"It's okay," Mikasa assured him. "Just stop crying."

"I'm trying." he insisted.

"Let him have a moment," I told her. "He's got a lot of feelings."

"I do," he sobbed. "Too many feelings. God."

Sasha opened the front door.

"So….glad you guys made up n' all, but do any of you have to pee? Because we're gonna go."

"Shhhhhh," Eren said. "We're having a moment."

Her expression went flat. "Again, that's nice, but we aren't stopping again for another three hours. We really need to make this deadline."

I felt myself frown. "But, if we went along with the route we chose, we should make it on time."

And then I remembered. "Oh. We stopped too often. Moment's over." I pulled away from the hug and left for the restroom, because I did, in fact, have to use it.

As I opened the door, I stopped and turned back toward Eren and Mikasa. I started to ask, aren't you two coming?, but I caught a glance of them sucking face before I could get a word out. With a (happy) sigh, I closed the door behind me.

* * *

5:00 A.M.

Eren, Mikasa, and I got in a huge fight. It tied into a fight that Sasha and Conny were having. They were all as ridiculous as they were childish, and a good number of us said some stupid things, but they were resolved relatively quickly, which I'm thankful for. Our fights can last anywhere from two minutes to two months. I blame our tiredness, at least partially. The other part can be attributed to my oversensitivity and insensitivity, Mikasa's defensiveness, and Eren's confrontational/emotional nature.

But with the end of it came real resolution between Eren and Mikasa, which is fantastic, as well as a positive atmosphere in the Jaegermobile, which is just as good.

As a matter of fact, it's better than good. It's a godsend. I've realized recently that this is Mikasa's, Eren's, and my last time together for a while. When I get home, I'm saying my good-byes and heading off to Sina University, out of state. And I'll be busy there, enough so that I'm not likely to have much time to spend with Eren and Mikasa online. All I'll have are my classmates, and I'm highly doubtful I'll befriend many of them. I've only ever made new friends through Eren and Mikasa. I don't know how to reach out to others like Eren does, and I'm not as admirable as Mikasa. I don't know how I'm supposed to be happy, if I'm being honest with myself.

But besides that, we're going to be splitting ways, soon. I don't want us to waste any of our time together. Fights are petty, and at times, meaningless. I'd rather be spending our time rolling our eyes at Eren, or getting Mikasa to smile, or rambling on to the both of them about dumbo octopi while they listen passively and gain interest as I go on.

I really hope we don't experience anything like this for the rest of the summer. I was lucky enough for the argument to have only lasted a couple of hours; I hate to think about how things might end up if we enter a two-month-long discourse.

By the way, I think I have more personal exploration to add here.

Firstly, the fact that Grandpa Armin is dead has popped up recently. I don't know why. I suppose I just miss him.

I do miss him. I miss him a lot. I wish he were here. I miss his accent. I miss his hugs. I miss his advice. I miss helping him trim his beard. It was always so perfectly neat; I remember being scared to touch it.

I also remember being in Kindergarten, before I'd met Eren, and being mocked for the accent I'd picked up from him. I'd come home crying. Grandpa tossed me over his shoulder and spun me around (how had he done that? It had to have hurt him) until I laughed, and then told me it was time I'd learned to speak properly (though he swore head to toe for most of his life that English English was the only 'proper' way to speak the language). And he gave up a week into our speech sessions, because he couldn't mimic an American accent to save his life, instead telling me to copy my classmates. And I did.

I miss my grandfather. I wish he were here.

Anyway- actually, you know what? No anyway. My hand is tired. I don't want to explore myself. I want to go to sleep. So nevermind.

More later, I guess.

* * *

In case you're wondering, I did not go to sleep. Whether I was too relieved or too tired, I'll never know.

* * *

**A/N: GUESS WHO UPDATED?**

**DAS RIGHT. ITS ME, GUYS. I FUKKIN UPDATED.**

**AND THIS ISNT EDITED, AND IT FEEL LIKE RUSHED TRASH TO ME, AND I'M SO SORRY, BUT YEAH! THERE WE GO. I HOPE U LIKE IT.**

**Also, shoutout to everyone that reviewed! Holy shit u guys dont know how those make my day. especially fucking NATIWATI WHO REVIEWED IN EVERY SINGLE CHAPTER AND LEAD ME TO FIND HER AMAZING SHIT AND MY LIFE IS FOREVER CHANGED.**

**While I'm at it, I'm really happy bc I've met a lot of really cool people through this story, and god I'm so glad I know you guys, bc ur the fucking greatest (another endless stream of thank yous to dani, if ur reading this, i know i said it a bajillion times but damn. the cover u made was so perfect i really want to cry ok.)**

**Also, to people who review on guest, i really wish I could reply to u. Just know I get super excited when I see any review, and u guys arent an exception. (and if ur not on guest and i havent replied to u, sorry! D: I'm a scatterbrain, honestly. I try to reply to everyone, though.)**

**And extra apologies for this chap. I wanted to drag out Eren's grudge, just because that felt more realistic than a quick solution, but honestly? My hands could not stop themselves. This is just how it turned out. Besides that, I suppose it wouldnt have worked out, anyway, because Eren wanted resolution in the first place. Like, he doesnt fight just to fight. So yeah. I'm still sorry. **

**Sorry for the mentions of Armin's grandpa, too, but his role in Armin's life, as well as his death, majorly impact Armin's character. So it's not a paragraph of random headcanons, I swear.**

**And, finally, sorry for any typos, I don't edit this shit bc I'm lazy and a procrastinator, u know the drill. Thank you guys again for reading! I really do hope yall enjoyed this chapter.**


	11. The All-Nighter, Part 5: Finally, Sleep

**Icarus &amp; I**

**Chapter 11**

**The All-Nighter, Part 5- And Finally, Sleep**

* * *

**By the time we'd entered New Orleans, **Sasha and Conny had not quite made up yet. Eren, being himself, attempted to relieve the van of its tension by making conversation. How he had the energy to do so, I'll never know.

Mikasa had fallen asleep again, and I was trying my best to follow suit. Unfortunately, seeing as Sasha wasn't much for conversation at the moment and Conny was pretending to be asleep, Eren's attempts at conversation were directed at me. So I could not fall asleep.

"Hey Ar?"

"Yes?"

"...analyze me."

"You're an idiot."

"Fair enough."

Minutes passed. Then.

"Hey Ar?"

I sighed. "Yes?"

"What's your favorite food?"

"I don't know. Too tired to think about it."

"Is it salad?"

"No."

"Is it egg nog?"

"Maybe. But that's a drink."

"Is it tea?"

"Also a drink, but sure. It's tea."

"And scones?"

"Tea and scones, yes."

"You're such a Brit."

"You know what rhymes with Brit, Eren?"

"What?"

"Idiot."

"Oh."

Another pause, this one exasperatingly shorter.

"Hey Ar?"

I threaded my fingers through my hair and rested my head in my palm.

"Yes, Eren?"

"...do you think pigeons have feelings?"

"Eren, go to sleep."

"Please tell me."

"Yes. Pigeons have feelings. You're a pigeon. Go to sleep."

"Did you bullshit that?"

"No, it's been scientifically proven. But you _are _a pigeon. Go to sleep."

"Fine."

This pause was longer. I leaned back against my chair and closed my eyes.

Sleep began to overtake me.

And then.

"Hey Ar!"

I spoke without moving anything but my mouth.

"Eren, you'd better be calling me to witness the second coming of Christ, the ninth wonder of the world, or Walt Disney's reanimated corpse coming over to knock on my window, or else I'm going to personally give Satan a ring and tell him to reserve a room in the ninth circle of Hell and give you a head, shoulders, and back treatment that would make Judas Iscariot say 'whoa, I'd hate to be that guy'."

There was silence.

Then Sasha whispered, "That was the most terrifying thing I've ever heard, oh my god."

"I'll shut up," Eren muttered.

* * *

Even after all of that, sleep still did not find me.

* * *

_6:27 A.M._

_I'm going to do it. I'm going to say the word. The F-word. I'm going to do it._

_No, that would be a stupid thing to do._

_I'm going to write it, then._

_I'm going to write the F-word._

_I can do it. I can at least think it, so I should be able to write it._

…_..but it's such a disgusting word._

_But I'm __**angry. **_

_That's a lie. I'm simply tired. I'm not angry at all._

_I must sound ridiculous. I hope to god no one ever reads this._

…_..I want to say it. What's a word, anyway? What is written text? Just some lines in a certain kind of order. It would have no real meaning if I were only writing it to myself, for the sake of writing it._

_Why do I want to write it so badly?_

_Maybe it's a case of forbidden fruit? Maybe because I'm exhausted and want to express it in this particular way because it feels right? _

_I should just get it over with._

…_..but Grandpa Armin would frown at me._

"_A gentleman doesn't need those kinds of words," he used to say. "He has a vocabulary as big as a library."_

_But Eren swears all the time, and it's not like he's uneducated or stupid. He at least knows what "effervescent" means. And he's considerably interpersonally capable. _

_So saying the F-word doesn't make me stupid._

_Well, I suppose I never thought it did. I'm just hesitant, I suppose._

_But why? _

_I don't know. I'm going to do it, anyway._

_Ready?_

_Here goes!_

_Ahem._

_Can you clear your throat in written text? Why would I write that?_

_Sorry._

_Here goes. Again._

_Fuck._

_There is a flurry of emotion within me right now, and I have to let it out._

_First of all, why? Why did I have to do that? I feel….dirty. Unclean. Why did I do that?_

_Second of all, I feel better now. I feel like a weight's been lifted. I did it. I said the F-word._

_Thirdly, I don't feel like myself. Would Armin really write something like that? I feel like I was trying too hard, but at what?_

_I'm going to do it again._

_Fuck._

_I'm a terrible person._

* * *

"Are you okay, Armin?"

I turned to Eren. "I'm fine," I assured him. "Just….you know."

"Tired?"

"Yes."

In retrospect, I'm very glad I didn't share my internal struggle with him. He would never have let me live it down.

* * *

The road roared below us. The sound was pleasant, and steady. It gave me a feeling comparable to one I might get if it were storming outside. I felt sheltered and sleepy.

But, apparently, not sleepy enough to sleep.

Before my frustration could turn into something unbearable, Sasha pulled up to a small, worn-down house in the middle of a green field. She stopped next to a seemingly ancient truck, and then turned to us with a brilliant grin.

"We're here!" she announced, the southern twang seeping back into her voice. She made no move to mask it, or even to show she was ashamed of it.

Mikasa woke, disoriented. She blinked at her window, then at me.

"Did you curse, Armin?" she asked. I felt my face grow hot.

"No," I half-lied. I heard the driver's door open behind me. "Why?"

"I had a dream where you said…..the F-word." She frowned at herself. "I could've sworn I actually heard you say it."

I shook my head, reaching to open my door. "You should know me better."

I hoped to god neither she nor Eren noticed the edge in my voice.

Thankfully, they either didn't notice or ignored it. Mikasa shrugged dismissively. Eren simply yawned, unbuckling his seatbelt.

I stepped outside, into the dark morning, the last of my face's flush disappearing as I stretched outward. Eren followed after me shortly, and then Mikasa, who closed the door behind us.

Sasha stood on the porch of the house, knocking vigorously. Conny stood behind her. We hurried to catch up with them.

Just as we made it up the porch stairs, the door swung open. Behind it stood a rather tall man in his pajamas, his hair piled atop his head in a reddish-brown mess, the mere beginnings of a scruffy beard lining his jaw.

He squinted down at Sasha. She smiled brightly back.

"Morning, Cousin Travis!" she chirped.

"Are you on time for once?" Travis asked. His Southern accent was much stronger than his relative's, almost comically so.

She nodded, shifting her weight from one leg to the other. "Yup! Now let us in."

He pointed at Mikasa, then Eren, then me. I felt myself stiffen a little under his gaze.

"Who're they?"

"Some friends of ours," Sasha answered dismissively. "They gave us our ride here, and for free. You guys are okay with them crashing here for a bit, right?"

Travis wrinkled his nose. "They got their own blankets?"

"Yep."

"How do they feel about soup?"

Sasha turned to us. We all all shrugged, collectively answering that we thought soup was alright.

"Y'all allergic to peanuts?"

We all shook our heads.

Travis heaved a huge, dramatic sigh and stepped backward, waving us in.

"Bags go next to the couch. And thanks for takin' care of Mrs. Potato Head, I guess," he said, scratching his neck.

Sasha glowered at him. Conny successfully stifled a laugh, only to snort out the withheld air seconds later.

Eren gave Mikasa and me an inquiring look. After receiving nothing but equally lost glances in return, he set his bag down and repeated, "Mrs. Potato Head?"

"Oh lord," Sasha mourned, taking a seat on the couch. Her face was buried in her hands.

Conny grinned. "Oh, yeah. I didn't tell you guys? Sasha _loves _potatoes."

"_Conny._"

"At freshman orientation," he continued, paying his friend no heed or mercy, "she was found in the cafeteria, eating a potato _raw._"

"Steamed!" she corrected furiously. A stiff, exasperated hand appeared near her face, pointed at Conny. "It was _steamed, _for the love of god. I would not eat a potato raw, that's disgusting!"

There was a pause. She raised her eyebrows in warning.

Conny batted his eyes innocently and continued, anyway.

"She ate a potato raw-"

"_Steamed_!"

"- and was charged fifty cents for it. But we didn't have fifty cents. So she was told to help pass out the food they gave us for lunch. And do you know what was included in this food?"

"Potatoes?" Eren guessed absently, pulling out his toiletries.

"Yup," Conny confirmed. "Potato chips. And you know what she ended up doing?"

"Oh my god, I was _hungry_, let it _go-_"

"She ate two bags." Conny held up two scornful, emphatic fingers. "Not one. Two."

We all turned to look at Sasha. She was staring at the ground, defeat evident in her blank, quiet gaze.

"Potato Girl," she whispered. She played absently with her fingers. "There is no Sasha. Only Potato Girl."

"Poor Sash was never the same again," Conny concluded. "Everyone teased her about it, even after the joke had gotten old. All she was to our classmates was Potato Girl. No one but the teachers even knew her real name."

Sasha quit her melodramatic act. "Except for you," she corrected.

Conny lost his smile. They stared at one another for a second, and I personally could feel the aching bittersweetness of the moment.

_This is all going to end soon._

I think I expected the two to turn away from one another, or at least move onto another topic. They'd ignore each other until Conny left. That was what I'd expected since Sasha had explained their predicament to me.

But, to my surprise, that isn't what happened.

Conny offered her a sad smile, and I could see any sort of tension leave his body when he looked at her. It seemed he'd forgotten they weren't the only ones in the room.

"Yeah," he said. "Except for me."

Sasha opened her arms, and he unabashedly rushed into them. They hugged one another the way a young child might hug a stuffed animal when they were sad, squeezing each other tightly, exposing every vulnerability they might've had to one another with a simple, sweet gesture.

"I'm sorry I was a butt," Sasha said quietly.

Conny shook his head. "I'm sorry I was a jackass."

"I'm just so scared of what it's going to be like without you."

Her voice thickened. She hid her face in his shoulder, but I was more than certain it had crumpled at this point.

A long, heavy breath escaped from Conny's nose. His arms tightened around her.

"We'll be fine, Sash," he told her. His words were so quiet, I could hardly hear them.

And I realized, with a jolt, I was intruding upon them. Eren and Mikasa had already left. I hurried to put my bag away.

But before I could head down the hall after my friends, I caught one last snippet of their conversation.

"This'll end soon, but it's here now," Conny said, his voice wavering. "No matter what comes next, this is our now. And I'm more than glad for it, Sash."

Sasha's quiet sniffling was the last thing I heard before leaving the room.

* * *

While Travis cooked us an early breakfast, I lay on a couch in the living room, listening intently to the pop and sizzle of what would soon be our food. Conny and Sasha had left to take a walk in the fading dark of the morning, and Mikasa and Eren, as far as I knew, were in the guest bedroom, doing god knows what (and I mean that in the most literal sense possible. They could have been doing anything from sucking face to staring at the wall).

Travis quietly sang a song to himself as he cooked, something twangy and upbeat about chicken fry and beer. The sound harmonized quite nicely with the sizzle of grease and butter. I found the entire scene rather pleasant.

And in this chorus of breakfast food and country music, my mind found itself content not to run, but to stroll, to meander around casually, naturally. Every thought was accepted as it was. Every aspect of my current reality was noticed, but not considered. Even the old couch cushions my back pressed against. Even my torn cuticles and oddly warm fingers. Even the ceiling I fixed my gaze upon, as dull and depressingly off-white as it was.

And in my thoughts and observations recurred Conny's words, devoid of meaning to me, nothing more than sounds.

I suppose that it was because I was in this state of mind that I was able to catch it:the heavy, dripping, syrupy tone in his words.

_What is that? _I asked myself curiously. _It seems so familiar. What is it?_

And the only word, the only answer I could come up with, was love.

Love for your friends, for your chosen family.

It could bring people to their knees.

It could crumple them like wads of used paper.

And it could make them feel valuable. Worth something.

It could give their existence meaning.

It could be the point of life.

My muscles began to relax. My eyelids grew heavy.

The bond between me, Eren, and Mikasa.

The one I wasn't sure I could live without.

_Is that it?_

_Is that why people live?_

My mind slowed. I closed my eyes. I began to sink into unconsciousness.

But before I could, a single word dropped into my stomach, swam alongside me.

_No._

Pushed back into a world of pointlessness, I finally fell asleep.

* * *

**AN: This. Chapter. Is. Hella. Short.**

**And I'm sorry.**

**BUT! On the bright side, you guys have made me incredibly happy.**

**Why, you ask?**

**Um, because this is the most support and attention I have ever gotten on a fic? Ever? In my life?**

**So thank you to everyone that's favorited and followed, and especially to those that have reviewed. I'm going to single out left-to-die, Nat, Jess, Jessica, Sydney, lyssala, and saythanksplease, because each one of them has heavily supported this fic like no one else has, and I'm incredibly grateful for that and for their friendship. Icarus &amp; I means a lot to me as my story, my current main project, my outlet, and in some ways, my memoir. I don't think you guys have any idea what your attention and support mean to me. To put it simply, by enjoying it and letting me know you enjoy it, you are personally lifting me up, and I can't thank you enough. **

**That being said, I will ask that you keep reviewing. I'm still quite insecure about my writing, and whenever I get less than about three reviews, I get extremely discouraged, and consider deleting the chapter I just posted. It's dumb, I know, but I can't help but feel that way. I do put a lot of effort into writing this, believe it or not. If you have positive (or constructive) things to tell me, please do so. **

**Additionally, I've written an eremika fic name Les Ombres Grandissent. It's a red riding hood AU inspired by lolakasa's brilliant artwork, and I've worked very hard on it, so if you're interested, the first two chapters have been posted.**

**Thanks for reading, again. Next chapter shouldn't take me long at all. Please review!**


	12. And When I Woke Up

**Icarus &amp; I**

**Chapter 12**

**And When I Woke Up**

* * *

**And when I woke up, **Conny was gone.

Slowly and groggily, I lifted my head, noting the change in lighting. Frayed strands of my hair stuck to my cheek with, uncomfortably enough, sweat and, embarrassingly enough, drool. My feet dipped into the slope of cushion Sasha's weight created beside me.

She sat hunched over, her bangs tucked messily behind her ears. Her eyes were puffy and red.

"What time is it?" I asked. She turned to me with mild surprise.

"...About five, I think," she answered.

"P.M.?"

"P.M., yeah."

In the following silence, I studied her, immediately assuming that Conny had left based upon what I saw. She resembled a wilted wildflower, once open and lovely, now crumpled and sad. It was as though something had run her over in the time I'd been asleep, had drained her hair of its red to make it appear as mud-colored as it did now. Something had changed that naturally sweet face of hers into something achingly, painfully bittersweet. Having just woken up, and being myself, I found I couldn't stand the sight, and turned away.

* * *

_8:52 P.M._

_Note to self (redundantly enough): cold breakfast food is intolerably disgusting. _

_I ate some of the leftovers everyone had saved for me, but Sasha's cousin Travis doesn't have a microwave, for some horrific reason, so I had to eat them cold. And then my gag reflex prevented me from eating any more condensing eggs. So I just stopped. Travis made soup for us within the next few hours, anyway. _

_Before then, Sasha, Eren, Mikasa, and I all helped around the house, tidying up. Eren hit me with a pillow. Sasha hit Mikasa. I left the room immediately, irritated. Sasha is now dead, and her funeral will take place this upcoming Sunday. She had a good run. _

_Of course, I'm just kidding. Mikasa simply whacked her hard enough to knock the breath out of her, and she immediately forfeited, claiming she was too young to die (a wise choice, in my personal opinion). And then Eren dared to try her, whopping her on the shoulder. Quick as lightning, she struck back, smirking as he lost his balance for a moment. Then he grabbed her by the arm and kissed her, eliciting a squeal from Sasha (and a pleased grin from me). While Mikasa froze, most likely unsure of what to do with herself, Eren snatched her pillow away and whapped her against both ears, laughing. She scowled and tickled him relentlessly until he surrendered._

_I could hardly stand the joy this entire exchange brought me._

_Anyway, after we cleaned, just as dinner was being prepared, I found myself out on the back porch. A few...interesting things happened there. _

* * *

The sun had just begun to set. It was warm out, and rather sticky. Unable to stand the heat, I'd borrowed one of Eren's T-shirts, the sleeves humiliatingly large around my arms. I tugged at them self-consciously as I read.

I sat there for some time, fascinated by the short stories of Flannery O'Connor, shaking my head in dismay as nearly every story ended in death and implied condescension, my eyes straining against the dimming light. The late author certainly knew how to tell a story, but I was getting bored of her repetitive endings. After all, her point was always obvious, even in the narrative. Her characters assumed and condemned others, and then they or someone they loved died in the end.

_There is more than one way to expose the vulgarity, the brutality of human nature, Miss O'Connor,_ I kept thinking. _And even if there weren't, I don't think death is an appropriate punishment. Or a punishment at all._

And then I stopped, because I'd never quite considered what I thought of death.

_Not a punishment_, I'd thought. Hm.

I supposed I was right.

And just as the sun disappeared entirely, the porch light above me began to glow, moths swarming toward it, and the back door to the house swung open.

Sasha stepped out, closed the door behind her, and took a seat in the vacant, dirty lawn chair beside me. She heaved a great sigh, curling up so that her arms were wrapped around her knees.

I allowed a small moment of silence (excluding the cicadas and crickets singing around us) pass between us before asking, "Did you want to talk?"

Her eyes stared straight ahead, digging into the silhouettes of the trees in the distance.

"Yeah," she said.

"About what?" I asked. She shrugged.

"I don't know. Anything, I guess."

I frowned. "But why with me?"

She finally met my gaze, a tiny smile gracing her lips. "You comfort me."

At this, I found myself smiling back. "I'm glad," I said.

* * *

_And so, we talked until Travis called us inside for dinner. We talked about all sorts of things, from childhood memories to our mutual habit of biting our fingernails, but one particular topic stood out to me. Maybe that's because she'd mentioned it before._

* * *

"You're sure you don't have an anxiety disorder?" she asked me. A second before, a spontaneous and unpleasant shudder had run through my torso.

I frowned. "I'm very sure, yes," I answered.

Her brow wrinkled. "What makes you so sure?"

Only slightly irritated that she'd continued to press me, I answered with a mostly level voice.

"My father is a psychologist," I said, "and he teaches Psychology at Sina University. I am his number one patient; he's constantly asking me how I feel about things, and writing observations in this little notebook he keeps about me. He's said before that my having an anxiety disorder is unlikely. I'm willing to take his word for it."

Sasha's eyes searched my face for any sign of doubt. I knew there was none.

But she continued to press me, nevertheless.

"Well-" she stammered. "How often does he do this? This questions thing?"

"At least once a week."

"Has he ever actually _tested_ you for-"

"No, and he doesn't need to. My father is brilliant and educated and he knows what he's doing. I trust him."

Silence ensued. My face flushed as I realized how rude I'd sounded.

I was just about to apologize when Sasha asked, "Does he ever really pay attention to you, though?"

I stopped, confused. "I'm sorry?"

Her tone grew more fervent. "My mom- before she left Dad and me- she used to play games with me and watch TV with me and make snacks with me all the time. But it was all just her going through the motions. It was obvious she didn't care about me when she left without me, not even bothering to fight for custody of me. But the whole time she'd done it, I'd convinced myself she took care of me because she loved me, not because she felt like she had to. And I just thought maybe-"

"No. My mom and dad love me, and I love them. They're proud of me, and I'm proud of them. As soon as my grandfather died, they came back for me, without even hesitating-"

"They were gone?"

I stopped. Tears had sprung to my eyes. I'd stood without realizing it.

With the look Sasha was giving me, I could have been a delusional orphan.

"They left when I was five," I said. "With my Aunt Candice. To travel. But they came back every few months or so, and my grandfather took care of my cousin Brianna and me, so we were just fine. And as soon as Granpda Armin passed, they came back, accepted those teaching positions at Sina U they'd been continually offered, and took care of me."

Sasha eyed me skeptically. "And when did your grandpa pass?"

"My junior year. I was fifteen."

"_Ten years_."

At her incredulous, condescending tone, I found myself glowering at her.

She shook her head, murmured _sorry_, and changed the subject.

* * *

_Travis called us for dinner soon after that. Eren burned his tongue on his soup, and had to wait a few minutes longer than the rest of us to eat, as a result. Sasha, in the meanwhile, balanced her social energy between us and- guess who- Jean._

_Travis seemed utterly shocked that she'd gotten herself a "boyfriend". He insisted on calling him later, to "judge his character". _

_Now I lay on the living room couch again, a blanket over my legs, far from tired, as I've slept all day. But Eren claims we're leaving early tomorrow morning, and Travis and Sasha have already gone to bed (they say they have to rise early, as well). So I plan on reading until I grow tired. Flannery O'Connor and her horrifically depressing and repetitive character deaths may star in my dreams tonight._

_But before I close today's entry, I feel I need to address another answer to that terrible question that started all of this, one that I just discovered last night (or, technically, this morning). _

_Before I'd drifted off, I'd considered the idea that we live to experience love for our friends, our chosen family. And it was immediately shot down._

_I realized, as much as I love my friends, and as much as it's going to hurt to leave them, they are not the reason I am here. I have done and plan to do so many things that don't really have anything to do with them, and that's been obvious from the start. _

_I don't why I even considered this idea. Am I really that desperate for a solution?_

_Anyway, now that I've covered that, it's time for me to go back to reading! _

_More later, I suppose._

* * *

The next morning, when we woke, Sasha and Travis were nowhere to be found.

I was reluctant to leave without saying goodbye, but Eren was only too eager to stuff everything back into the van, and Mikasa was too tired to object to anything.

We drove away before the sun could take its place above us, and my chest began to ache at the thought of yet another adventure coming to an end.

* * *

**AN: Thank you all for reviewing! That was the biggest amount of reviews I've gotten on a single chapter, holy cow. I seriously appreciate it. 3**

**Sorry if this chapter is shitty; I have literally no idea what I'm doing right now. Everything's kind of disorienting rn. But I'm sad to see the departure of Sasha and Conny. I was just growing attached to them, and whoop. There they go.**

**Anyway, up next is the start of a new mini arc. Get excited, because we're about to touch on some huge things for this story. I mean, I'm excited. I'm very, very fucking excited.**

**I feel like this was a weak ending for an arc I enjoyed very much, but c'est la vie. This arc wasn't really all that great, anyway. **

**Anyway, again, thanks for all you guys's support! The next chapter may take some time for me to write (clean slates, amirite), but I swear it'll be a doozy! :D**

**Until next time! Please review! **


	13. Why Defying Gravity Is Terrifying

**Icarus &amp; I**

**Chapter 13**

**Why Defying Gravity Is Absolutely Terrifying**

* * *

_**Day 7. Funny, it doesn't feel like it.**_

_How in the world has it only been a week since we left? It feels like it's been months, at the very least. I've always thought experiences as life-shaking as these could be short, but I've never thought they might be this short, or that, even if they were as short as seven days, I'd ever be in the center of them. _

_Yet here I am, seven days after leaving home, my life shaken. But only slightly. And not in the way I'd hoped it might be. Not just yet._

_Two answers now, both frustratingly inadequate, have come to mind. My ridiculous question isn't yet satisfied. I feel as though I now have more loose ends than I started with. I am, in a word, exasperated. _

_And Eren is __**not **__helping._

* * *

"I spy with my little eye something…..blond."

My eyes flicked from my notebook to Eren's irritatingly familiar face. I gave him the flattest look I could muster.

"It's me," I said.

Pretending to be upset, he smacked his own knee, turning to the window. "Dammit, you got me again!"

Mikasa and I both released a heavy sigh, sharing a look in the rear-view mirror. Why he hadn't sat with her in the front, I'd never know, but he was here, in the back, instead. With me.

I was one terrible joke away from committing homicide.

Mikasa seemed to sense this. When Eren began to speak again, she cut him off abruptly.

"Eren, I think we'd all appreciate some quiet right now," she said.

He frowned at her, obviously at least slightly offended. "Okay," he said defensively. "Just trying to lighten the mood. Jesus."

"The mood doesn't need lightening," she replied simply. "We've had a long week."

"Kay, whatever."

She rolled her eyes, but besides that, Mikasa said nothing to perpetuate the conflict, which I appreciated. Eren is like the brother I never had, but there were things Mikasa understood that he never could. Like the value of silence and thought. I was unsure if Eren would ever understand exactly how unnecessary it was to constantly externalize, expel, and act. How internalizing can be of benefit to you and others. That negative space and negative sound aren't always undesirable. I wondered if he'd ever grow to realize these things. I supposed it was partially my responsibility to teach them to him (which of course wasn't true, but the thought made sense to me at the time).

So we sat in silence for a while. Eren began to fidget. I ignored him, instead turning to read. Mikasa drove without saying a word. I snapped pictures of the road, every now and again.

Then Eren said, "You guys ever feel like we're on a roller coaster?"

"With you? Always," I answered. Mikasa snorted. Eren grew mildly annoyed (to my satisfaction).

"No, I mean, like, in general. With life and stuff. For months you go up, then you go down, and sometimes, you have no idea which direction you're going in because you're in the middle of the whole thing. You get me?"

"I think someone's tired," Mikasa said.

"Take a nap, Eren."

"I'm not tired," he insisted. "It just hit me, all of a sudden, y'know? Why is Armin allowed to be pretentious and philosophical, but I'm not?"

"I'm not pretentious."

"Yes, you are," Mikasa said. "He's got a point. Sorry, Eren."

"No, it's cool. Just, like, hear me out, because this is actually something I've thought about for a while, and I want to know if it's just me, or what."

"I think a lot of things are like roller coasters," Mikasa reasoned.

"Like dicks?" Eren asked.

Mikasa's face wrinkled in disgust. "No. Why does it always come to this with you?"

He simply shrugged in reply. Mikasa rolled her eyes. I waited for the conversation to continue, but it didn't. The van grew silent once more.

After some time, we began to drive on a slope, most likely a relatively steep hill. Eren laughed.

"What's funny?" Mikasa asked.

"This is what I meant," he said. "Right now, we're going up. Like, literally and metaphorically."

"I don't think you're using either of those terms correctly," I said.

"No, I know what I'm talking about. This hill is life right now. Since graduation, we've been going up for a while."

"If you call arguing nonstop with strangers 'going up', then sure," Mikasa said.

Eren, to my surprise, didn't seem annoyed, but excited. "But it is, though, Miks. We've been growing, guys. Like, in school, it just felt like one stale month after the other, but now? We're on an adventure. Every day is exciting and fun. Things get better as we go on. It's just so cool. We keep going up."

"I guess when you put it that way," Mikasa said, though Eren and I both knew she was simply agreeing to get him quiet.

He turned to me, a rather jolting light in his eyes. I offered him my best attempt at a sincere smile.

"I think you're right," I told him. "In our own way, we've been going up."

He grinned back, turning ahead once again. "Thanks, man."

"Well, it's true."

And it was, the more I thought about it.

* * *

_A roller coaster that keeps going upward. Huh._

_...why does that unsettle me?_

* * *

I felt the van reach the top of the hill. My stomach dropped as we began to descend. Eren began to snore.

* * *

_Oh. That's why._

_The longer you defy gravity, the harder you hit the ground._

* * *

We kept driving. Mikasa was silent. My eyes tried to follow the road as it flew beneath us, but I could never seem to get a clear picture of it in my head. It stayed as it always would: a long, bumpy, grey blur.

* * *

_But life is not a roller coaster; it's life. Long, bumpy, grey. Fleeting. Practically endless, and therefore impossible to see._

_I'm sure we'll all be just fine._

* * *

**AN: Hella short chapter, but here I am! Alive! Woo! **

**Sorry for the delay; I've been super busy. Hopefully, however, I can update within the next month. Thanks for waiting this long. **

**Don't forget to review!**


	14. Before The Beginning Of Everything

**Icarus &amp; I**

**Chapter 14**

**Before The Beginning Of Everything**

* * *

**Days passed uneventfully**. We napped, we chatted, we played music. We slept in various crappy motels with varying prices. Derek, to my surprise, failed to call back. I took plenty of pictures, wrote plenty rather vapid entries in my diary. For example:

* * *

_Day 10_

_I can't believe I wrote the F-bomb. What if Mikasa reads this? What if Eren does? I don't think I could stand the teasing._

_Um. I'm not sure what else to write now._

_More later, I suppose._

* * *

That is honestly the most interesting thing that happened in that span of time, so I won't bore you with petty details.

Instead I'll jump ahead to Day 11, a significant day in the sense that I learned something new about people I'd known most of my life.

We'd been circling aimlessly in Arkansas (of all places, I know), more or less hoping for some other kind of adventure to come up before we reverted back to my list of sights to see, when the conversation turned to focus on our memories and roles in one another's lives (a conversation that sounds much more serious than it really was). Eren, I believe, was the one to suggest that he and Mikasa finally explain to me how their relationship developed into what it was that day.

"Please," I encouraged.

"How much do you know already?" Mikasa asked.

"Virtually nothing."

"So where do we start?"

I shrugged. "Where you think it started, I guess."

Mikasa gave Eren a questioning look. He shrugged in return.

"Take it away, Miks."

With one hand gripping the steering wheel in contemplation, she did.

* * *

Mikasa had had a crush on Eren since our junior year- which I'd known. It wasn't as though she'd told me, but once you're familiar with Mikasa and her habits, it's all too obvious when they change.

Well. Obvious to most, anyway.

I hadn't even considered the idea of their being in a relationship, interpreting her feelings as something inevitable and something that would pass. It wasn't that I didn't want her to be happy- of course, I did- but I knew Eren. Oblivious, insensitive, capricious Eren. I knew she'd never tell him how she felt, and I knew he'd never guess, and I knew she didn't want me to tell him. So I didn't, and he didn't, and she didn't, and time passed. She returned to her old self within the next few months. I'd assumed she'd gotten over him.

I'd been wrong.

Apparently, what had occurred wasn't a passing of her feelings, but a mingling of them, all the love and caring she'd developed for him over the course of their lives enveloping her romantic attraction to him to create an impossibly deep, overwhelming sort of love she was content just to feel, even if it was unrequited.

Meanwhile, halfway through senior year, Eren had apparently been feeling "weird" (in his words) around Mikasa, and that fact frustrated him, because he was so used to her being to person he was most comfortable with. Unbeknownst to me, one night when I was at my house and they were at his, he kissed her on impulse. She'd kissed him back. And then he'd panicked, pretending that the whole thing had never happened. She'd been heartbroken, but tried her best to move past it, never questioning they'd had a silent agreement to never tell me, knowing I would worry.

Mikasa attributed the smooth way they glossed over that event to Eren, who was more than content to tell himself the kiss had been a dream. She commented repeatedly on how naturally he continued to approach her, how he joked and teased her and bickered with her like it was nothing at all. She said it hurt her a little, to think it had been nothing to him, but that there had been nothing she could do about it. (After which Eren heatedly objected that that kiss had tortured him the rest of senior year, but that he was extremely determined not to let it show, because he was so unsure of his feelings for her, and overall so worried that if he pursued them, he'd ruin their relationship. She simply said, "Oh," seeming rather pleased and rather happy with this revelation).

Eren admitted that as prom drifted closer, he seriously considered asking Mikasa to go as his date. He said that he'd had fantasies about them going together quite often, but that, as soon as I'd suggested we all go together, he'd decided his fantasies were probably fit to stay imaginary (way to go, Armin. Let's forever discourage our best friends from being happy; you're good at that).

What I hadn't known was that at prom, when I'd gone outside for some peace and quiet (entrusting Eren to Mikasa, whom I knew was more than capable), Eren had pulled Mikasa aside from the dancing and music and rambled on and on about her and him. Mikasa said he'd made absolutely no sense.

* * *

"Eren," she giggled from the driver's seat, "do the speech again."

He laughed. "No. No way. I sounded like an idiot."

"_Please._"

He covered his eyes with one hand. "Oh, my god. Okay. Here goes."

He took a deep breath, fighting a smile as he turned to her.

"Mikasa. I can't be-f*cking-lieve that I've spent my whole life with you. Like, we've been babies together, and then, like, kids, and then, like, teenagers, and Jesus Christ, you're like my goddamn mom, but also like not, like you're kinda like a sister, but not. Not like that. You're like- god, how do I say it? You're- you know, like, how we have souls and shit? Or maybe auras. Do you believe in auras? I don't think you've ever told me. But they're, like, our colors or something. I think your color is nice, I guess. Do you get what I'm saying here? You're just…..god. Okay. I've been thinking about you a lot lately. It's kind of eating me alive. Look, my hands are shaking, shit. I can't look at you. Okay. You know how, like, Ariel fell in love with Eric at first sight in that Disney mermaid movie? That's not us. You get me? We're, like, Hansel and Gret- wait, shit, they were siblings. Damn. We're, like-" he burst out laughing- "the opposite of Romeo and Juliet. You get me?"

"Were you trying to express exactly how platonically you saw her?" I asked, incredulous.

He buried his face in his hands. "No! I just….you always preached to me about how Romeo and Juliet made zero sense, and, like, I don't know. Mikasa and I do."

"Is _that_ what you were trying to say?" Mikasa asked. There was a teasing lilt in her voice, but something fuller, something deeper in her smile. Eren caught on, a warm smile blooming from him, as well.

"Yeah, Miks. That's what I was trying to say."

"So-" I stopped, trying to think of how to phrase the question. "Um- what did you say that-"

"I didn't say anything," Eren answered.

* * *

He had simply kissed her.

Not quickly or rashly, like before.

Mikasa told me that he'd been careful, steady, and sure. And then-

* * *

"I said, 'That's what I mean. F*ck words. That's how I feel, Mikasa.'"

The van was silent, for a moment.

* * *

Mikasa'd been silent, for a moment. So-

* * *

"He did it again. And again. And he kept asking me, 'Do you get it, now?'"

* * *

Once she'd finally confirmed that yes, she got it, he stopped and, from what I gathered, basically asked her out.

* * *

"And I said yes."

* * *

And then they proceeded to date behind my back until I found them out.

Sadly, that was the end of that story.

Anticlimactic, I know, but that's how some things go, isn't it? And anyway, I'm starting to think that the best stories are the ones we haven't experienced yet, the ones that are continuous and never cease. Put into context, I think that my breakdown- and all that followed it- is infinitely more intriguing than what happened beforehand. And I think you'll agree with me.

But that's a different point, a different topic. So anyway.

A couple more days passed without anything notable happening. Derek still failed to call back. I continued to write irrelevant, short entries in my journal.

Then, on Day 14, Mikasa got a call.

* * *

"Hello?" Eren answered.

Mikasa kept her eyes on the road. "Who is it?"

Eren frowned. "No, this is her boyfriend. Who is this?"

He paused, then turned to her, his voice uncharacteristically small. "Miks, we gotta turn around. Now."

"What? Why? Who called, Eren?"

Eren, I noticed, was a little pale. He stumbled a bit before answering.

"It's your cousin Levi."

The Jaegermobile made the sharpest U-turn in human history that day.

* * *

**AN: HWO THE FUCK HAS IT BEEN THRE YEARS!**

**So an update. Woot. Not a good one…...I've been writing a lot of poetry, and theatre. Oh god, theatre. Very busy. Haven't written anything but poetry for a long, long while now, and the poetry is for a class. Feels good to get back in the game, especially with this story! If I don't finish this story, I'll have died in the process. Because I'm gonna fucking finish this story. I think about it all the fucking time. **

**But I know it's been long. Thanks to those that have held on so far. :) You will be rewarded.**

**On the bright side, I'm finally Armin's age! Woot, 17. Feels good to be the age of my character. For once.**

**On the down/other bright side, I've cut some of the arcs I had planned. Sad because some characters who were going to be heavy-focus will now make mere cameos, and some aspects of theme will be less emphasized. But good because I'm closer to the ending, which means we're closer to Annie!**

**When I say you guys will be rewarded, I fucking mean it. As I've said before, in some ways, Icarus &amp; I is my memoir. The part of the story where Annie comes in? That's practically an autobiography.**

**Additionally, some of you may notice a slight shift in Armin's narration. I've made a permanent decision about the context of this story. Just know that Armin is reminiscing in his narration.**

**Again, thank you all for your patience. I'm sorry this chapter was short and anticlimactic, but it's true: the real story lies in what's ahead, not what's behind. Look forward to Levi's appearance hella soon! Thank you guys for your unending support, and don't forget to review!**


	15. The Quiet All-Nighter

**Icarus &amp; I**

**Chapter 15**

**The Quiet All-Nighter**

* * *

**I remembered little **about Levi Ackerman, except that he was small, scary, and that he swore like a sailor. The only times we'd ever really interacted were those awkward nights I'd slept over at Mikasa's house and got up in the middle of the night to use the restroom or get a glass of water. I'd often stumble upon Levi brooding in the kitchen, a tinted bottle in one hand, an unfiltered cigarette in the other. He more often than not would cut his eyes at me, snap something along the lines of "go the f*ck to bed, kid", and then ignore me for the rest of his visit.

In summation, it's easy to see why, as soon as Eren uttered the words "Cousin Levi", my stomach churned uncomfortably. Though, to be fair, the Jaegermobile _was _making the sharpest U-turn in human history.

"Where is he?" Mikasa asked curtly.

"Uh, hold on." Eren put the phone back to his ear. "Where are you right now?"

A long pause ensued.

"Well?" Mikasa asked.

"So, uh, _where_ are you?" Eren repeated.

"What's he been saying this whole time?"

"Mainly, he's been telling the entirety of the Ford company to burn in hell while f*cking themselves."

"Christ. What a baby."

"He says he heard that."

Mikasa fumed, snatching the phone. "You're a _baby, _Levi," she snapped. "Where are you? _Illinois_? _Where_ in Illinois? What are you doing all the way over there? ...Okay, okay, shut up. We'll be there soon…..I don't know. You're not really in a place to complain right now. Okay. Okay. Bye." She hung up.

For the next five minutes, we all sat in silence, wondering what on Earth had just transpired.

Then Eren said, "Don't let him beat me up, Miks."

Mikasa snorted. "I'll kick his butt before he can even shake your hand."

And in that moment, I concluded that the Ackerman family was likely destined to one day overthrow the American government and, subsequently, have the world at its mercy.

To this day, I believe so.

* * *

More time passed, somewhat uneventfully. After Mikasa hung up on Levi, the car grew relatively quiet.

We stopped for lunch, listened to more of Eren's CD's, sang along to our own favorites. The sun set, and night fell. When I suggested stopping at a motel to rest, Mikasa replied, "We're going to have to pull another all-nighter."

"Because the last one turned out so well, right?" Eren muttered.

"We'll switch off every four hours," she continued, ignoring him. "Who wants to stop for coffee?"

Eren gave her a funny look. "How about dinner?"

"We can drive by a McDonald's, sure."

My throat twitched with nausea. "Can we not eat at McDonald's again?" I said.

Eren turned to me, frowning with irritation. "Where would _you_ like to go, Armin?" he said bitingly.

"Don't get hangry again," Mikasa sighed. "We'll stop for bathroom, coffee, and lunches at the next stop. Then we'll drive by a McDonald's or something for Eren. Sound good?"

"Can I get a slushie at the station?" Eren asked.

"We've already gone through, like, half our budget," she said.

"What if it's ninety nine cents?"

"Every penny counts."

"Every penny counts," I repeated, just to be smart. Eren cut his hangry eyes at me. I smiled brightly back. He muttered something sullenly under his breath.

"What was that?" I said.

"Nothing," he replied.

"No, really, what was it?"

Mikasa held back a smirk. "Say it to his face, Eren."

He made a hangry, rather moose-like noise, then said, "I said, '_You're _a penny that counts."

Subsequently, Mikasa and I enjoyed a good laugh at our friend's expense.

* * *

Two stops, three cups of coffee, and a sandwich later, I was in the back seat, lying on my side, on the verge of drifting off.

Then I heard Eren say, "Is he asleep?"

Wondering if I could pull it off, I kept my eyes shut and my breaths even.

Mikasa murmured, "Yes, I think so."

"Ok."

A pause, and then: "So I think maybe I should tell you what Derek said."

Mikasa was quiet for a moment. Then she asked, "Is it bad?"

"No, no," Eren assured her. "It's not bad at all. Just...I don't know. A little weird."

"...okay," she said. "So what was it?"

"Well, I don't remember exactly, but he said something like, 'What you guys have is so rare, Little Man. She's good for you. Don't just love this relationship; work for it.' And then he said, 'You have problems. Serious issues, Little Man, and you know it. It runs in the family. Don't let those problems get in the way of you keeping this, you hear me? If you f*ck up, make up for it. You can't lose this.'"

It was quiet again. Mikasa took a deep breath.

"I think I get it, now," she said. "And I'm sorry."

"What? No, no, I didn't say that to-"

"Shhh. You're being loud."

"Sorry, sorry. But I didn't- I didn't mean to- _agh_. I just thought you'd want to know. What he'd said."

"Well," she sighed, "thank you."

Another pause, then:

"I love you."

Eren waited for a moment before saying, "I love you, too, Mikasa."

Their words hung in the air as the road sang beneath my head, and, without struggle, sleep quickly found me.

* * *

I was woken by Eren shaking my shoulder. My turn to drive. Mikasa took my place in the back seat, while Eren rode shotgun again. Apparently, I'd slept through his turn (which was as much of a surprise as it was a relief). It was around 3:00 AM.

About an hour in, it seemed that Mikasa was asleep. Eren's head lay against the window, his eyes closed, but I knew he wasn't sleeping. Still, I made no effort to strike up conversation, partially because I didn't want to wake Mikasa, but mostly because I was enjoying the quiet.

The road grew rather misty, from what I could see in the beam of the headlights. Soon, light droplets began to tap on the windshield, pattering rhythmically over the hum of the engine and the continuous exhale of the ground.

It was somewhere between 4 and 6 AM when Eren murmured, "Put it down."

I glanced at him, his figure sagging comfortably into the corner of his seat. His brows were furrowed, corners of his mouth tense in a vague expression reminiscent of a grimace.

"Put it down," he repeated, his words slurred and low. "What the hell…" he trailed off, his words incoherent.

His hand twitched somewhat violently, knuckles trembling.

Disturbed, I fixed my gaze back on the road. My face was stiff, frozen into a neutral, but tense, expression. Something lodged in my throat- I wasn't sure what it was, at the time. It felt like a sign of tears, but I felt none coming on, and I couldn't imagine a reason why I would tear up in the first place.

A whimper, small and painfully vulnerable, echoed from beside me.

I dared to take another look, and in his sleep, Eren's face was absolutely crumpled, his hands full-on shaking, balled into fists in his lap. A tiny tear rolled across his temple.

"Eren," I said, reaching to shake his shoulder.

He woke with a jolt and blinked bleary, bloodshot eyes at me. His mouth was uncharacteristically agape.

Then, strangely enough, he turned back to the window. I saw a hand reach up to wipe his face.

"Bad dream," he muttered, and said no more.

And I didn't ask, opting instead to drive in silence.

Before the unsettled feeling in my stomach had passed, I heard quiet, heavy snores from my right. I drove in the drizzle until sunrise.

* * *

_Day 15_

_We pulled another all-nighter. This one, needless to say, wasn't nearly as hectic, dramatic, or loud, which I'm thankful for._

_Eren said something strange in his sleep, while I was driving. He kept saying "put it down," and then he began to cry in his sleep. And the strangest part is that I felt as though I wanted to cry, too, and I hadn't the slightest idea why._

_It reminds me of the time my grandfather and I pulled an all-nighter of our own. I remember it was some time in January, and he made us hot cocoa. We sat together on the sofa, reading side-by-side. Then, suddenly, he said, "Armin?"_

"_Yes?" I answered._

"_What do you know of Greek myths?"_

"_I know the gods and goddesses, and some of the demigods," I said. "And I know about the titans and Perseus."_

"_How about Theseus?"_

"_I've heard of him."_

"_The labyrinth?"_

"_I know that one."_

"_Then you know of Daedalus." _

"_Somewhat."_

"_So you've heard of Icarus?"_

_I paused. "No," I said. _

_He smiled strangely, that old twinkle I miss so much glittering in his eyes. _

"_That's the one I want to tell you about," he said. "It's my favorite story."_

_So he told me the story of Icarus, how he flew, how he fell, and when all was said and done, I asked, "Why is that your favorite story?"_

"_It's morbid, I know," he said with a laugh. "But I've always thought myself an Icarus of sorts. I don't think about his end; I consider his one moment of life. You understand what I mean?"_

"_I'm not sure I do."_

_His hand, warm and soft with wrinkles, brushed my bangs back as he tousled my hair. "Just know, Armin, that the most important part of a story isn't always its conclusion- in this case, Icarus's death. I don't think that that matters as much as it's supposed to."_

"_Then what matters?"_

"_Icarus flew, Armin," he said simply. "Despite everything before and after, he flew."_

"_But he died," I argued. "He was stupid."_

"_Stupid, happy. Not much difference there, I'm afraid." He began to chuckle. _

_As third grader and a linear thinker, I was lost. So I just drank my cocoa and returned to my book, ignoring my grandfather's mild amusement hanging over my shoulder. _

_Now, as a young adult, I understand what he meant, but I'm not quite sure I agree._

_Well. I'm not quite sure of anything right now._

_Thinking about it, Icarus is a funny character. Even now, I don't know what to make of him._

_I'm exhausted. I think I might take a nap while Mikasa drives. _

_More later._

* * *

**AN: IM NOT GIVING UP ON THIS SOTRY NEVER**

**Ahem. So my life's been absolutely nuts. **

**I think writing this story is almost therapeutic for me, once I get past my writer's block- caused mostly by dissatisfaction with my humor and transitions to the next scene. Gives me something else to focus on, besides my friends, family, money, college apps, schoolwork, One Act Play research, training for the musical, memorizing lines, choreo, and blocking for the musical, making my own goddamn transforming costume for the musical. Sometimes I need a break, and whoop, there this story is.**

**Thank you to all the people who've followed this story faithfully. I know it's been stretched out for so long, but I swear, it's going to get finished. **

**Now. ONTO WORKING ON MY GRACE BECAUSE CINDERELLA DOESNT CLUMP AROUND OR SLOUCH AND DAMMIT I NEED TO B IF I WANT COLLEGES TO LIKE ME FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK HERE I GO!**

**Thanks for the reviews! Please, don't hesitate to leave one!**


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